


Geyser

by wooplema



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Coming Out, Eventual Smut, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Pining, Post-Canon, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Burn, deviates from post-timeskip a little bit, inspired by the tv show Skam, well mostly canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:28:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 63,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28841637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wooplema/pseuds/wooplema
Summary: “You’re so...Tsukki, Tsukki.”Kei looks at the ground as he laughs. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”When he raises his eyes, Kuroo is looking directly at him, his green-gray eyes trained on Kei. “It was one,” Kuroo says, his voice low in both volume and pitch.--Tsukishima Kei's second year of university is off to a less-than-ideal start thanks to some peculiar roommates and a girl who is significantly more interested in him than he is in her. He's not sure if running into Kuroo Tetsurou for the first time in years will make matters better or worse.
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei
Comments: 162
Kudos: 179





	1. As I Live and Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first ever Haikyuu fic, and my first attempt at fan fiction since I was 10 and writing about Raven/Robin from Teen Titans. This will be an interesting ride.
> 
> This fic happened because I thought of the idea “what if you take Skam season 3 and make it about Tsukki and Kuroo” and then I fell in love with the idea and couldn’t stop myself from writing it. I am not great at coming up with plots so a lot of these events mirror or at least reference parts of Skam, but I hope that the writing and imagining our sweet volleyball boys being the subjects of the narrative is enough to make it feel a bit new and fun!
> 
> You don’t have to have ever watched Skam to read this, but if you do intend to ever watch it one day, this fic will spoil major plot points of season 3. But honestly, if you haven’t watched Skam, I heavily recommend it. It’s a great show.

**SATURDAY, 22:57**

The music is loud, too loud, even in the bathroom with the door shut. It’s obnoxious, but not at all unexpected, and with the shitty makeshift water bottle bong pressed against his lips and the heat radiating deep in his chest, Kei finds that he can’t bring himself to care too much. After a moment, he leans forward, tilts his head back, and lets the smoke pour out of his mouth toward the ceiling before passing the bottle to Yamaguchi. The two of them are sitting next to each other in the bathtub, their feet grazing the bathroom floor on the other side of the tub’s panel.

“She’s so hot,” murmurs Kunimi, who is looking at his phone from his perch on top of the toilet tank next to Yamaguchi. His feet rest on the closed toilet lid and, due to his long legs, he looks slightly cramped, but Kei supposes it’s preferable to being squished into the bathtub. Yamaguchi peers up at him in curiosity, and so Kunimi holds his phone so that the screen faces Yamaguchi. He and Kei lean over to look at a picture of some girl that Kei has never seen before. She’s in a crop top and short shorts that leave little to the imagination. Kei feels a breath on his right shoulder; he glances over to see Suna’s narrow eyes squinting at Kunimi’s phone as well.

“Who is that?” Yamaguchi asks.

“A girl from my maths class last semester,” Kunimi says. “I don’t think she knows my name, but I follow her on Instagram and like, _fuck_. She gives me heart palpitations.” Kei rolls his eyes gently and, without meaning to, scrunches up his nose. Kunimi notices this. “What, Tsukishima, you don’t think she’s hot?”

“She’s not my type,” Kei shrugs, bumping shoulders with Suna as he does so. 

“No one’s your type,” Kunimi says, rolling his eyes this time. Yamaguchi passes him the water bottle.

“That’s not true.”

“He’s got a point,” says Suna, who is leaning with his head against the wall behind the tub. His eyes are closed; he always looks so content when he’s high, which is often. “You never talk about girls.”

Next to him, Yamaguchi hums quietly in agreement. Kei is irritated but refuses to let them know that. 

“Black shoulder length hair, with bangs,” he says after a beat. “I don’t know her name yet, but she’s here and she’s hot.”

“That describes like, half the girls here,” Kunimi says, the smoke he just blew out billowing in the air above him.

“No, I know who he’s talking about,” Suna says. “She’s cute.” Kei gives Kunimi a glance as if to say _I told you so_ , but Suna continues. “I don’t think you have a chance.”

“I absolutely do!” Kei argues, his voice a bit more indignant than he’d like. 

“Right, right,” Suna opens his eyes and gives Kei’s knee two brisk, condescending pats. He reaches behind himself and pulls a small baggie out of his back pocket. “Can someone take this off my hands? If I bring this home, Atsumu is going to find it and smoke it all before I can.”

“You want someone to hold onto your illegal drugs for you, but not actually use them?” Kunimi asks. “Fucking great offer. Count me out.”

“Same,” Yamaguchi says quickly. Kei shoots him a look.

“Winner winner,” says Suna, who holds the baggie high above Kei before letting it drop into his lap.

Kei frowns as he picks up the wrinkled baggie. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Keep it in a safe place until I want it back,” Suna says, like it’s nothing. At Kei’s peeved look, he says, “what? Your roommates are chill. They don’t strike me as the type to invade your room.”

“How can you possibly say the word ‘chill’ about Oikawa?” Kei asks, and the question is only half-rhetorical. Yamaguchi snickers.

“I tried to warn you,” Kunimi says.

“Well, my options were to live with Oikawa and the recluse, or find an overpriced closet to live in,” Kei says. “Sometimes I think the closet would be preferable.”

“‘Oikawa and the Recluse’ sounds like a band name,” Suna says.

“Or a creepy children’s story,” adds Yamaguchi.

At that moment, the door to the bathroom opens. All four of them tense up in fear that it could be Yachi, who is explicitly not a fan of weed and would certainly not want the four of them using it in her bathroom. Thankfully, it’s just some brunette they don’t know.

“Close the door,” Kunimi urges. The girl looks at them, dazed, before obliging. “I need to pee,” she says. Kunimi frowns, but hops off of the toilet and gestures to it before shuffling away. Without hesitation, the girl stumbles over to the toilet, puts her hand under her dress and yanks her thong down to her knees before letting herself slink onto the toilet. She seems entirely undisturbed by the presence of the four young men pointedly looking anywhere but in her direction as the sound of her urinating reverbs in the toilet bowl.

Kunimi awkwardly resumes his position on the toilet tank when the girl is done. As she washes her hands, the door opens yet again. Thankfully, it’s not Yachi or any of her immediate friends. Kei’s heart speeds up when he realizes it’s the girl he described earlier.

“Hey, I didn’t know where you went,” she says to the brunette. She glances over at the tub. “Oh.”

“Hi,” Yamaguchi says awkwardly.

The girl gives a faux smile and turns to her friend. They begin talking about something and Kei feels a pointy finger jab at his shoulder. He looks up at Kunimi, who’s wearing a shit-eating grin on his face. At his other side, Suna murmurs, “go get your girl.”

It’s a challenge, and Kei isn’t sure that he’s going to make it out of this mess without eating a whole lot of proverbial shit, but he’s feeling good from the weed and he’s received enough confessions in his life to feel like he’s got to be at least somewhat attractive by conventional standards.

“I’m honestly kind of bored,” the black-haired girl is saying to her friend. “Maybe we should just go.”

“Quitter,” Kei says. The girl’s head snaps in his direction. He raises an eyebrow at her. “You’re going to leave the first party of the year early just because you’re ‘bored’?”

The girl’s expression morphs into confusion and then annoyance. “There’s nothing to do. No one’s doing anything interesting, except for you guys from the smell of it.”

“That’s all you want?” Kei cocks his head to the side. Fucking bingo. He could kiss Suna’s stoned little face. His hand sinks into his hoodie pocket and holds the baggie up so the girl can see it.

“Dude!” Suna chokes out upon seeing his weed already being exploited. Kei ignores him; it’s not like Suna can’t find more weed, and Kei is happy to reimburse him if it means he’s victorious tonight.

Kei hoists himself out of the bathtub as steadily and gracefully as he can given how high he is and his awkward positioning. He grabs the water bottle from the rim of the tub with his free hand and approaches the girl, who is looking up at him with guarded interest. Next to her, her friend looks like she may fall asleep standing up.

“Do you require payment?” the girl deadpans, eyeing the supplies in Kei’s hands.

“Your name,” Kei smirks.

The corners of the girl’s lips curve upward ever so slightly. “Sakata,” she says. Kei eyes her expectantly. “Sakata Asuka.”

Kei prepares the water bottle and fishes a lighter out of his pocket. When he lights it, Sakata lifts her arm, clearly expecting him to pass it to her. Instead, he brings it to his mouth and takes a deep hit. He hopes that his plan works out, because he’s honestly too high already for what he’s just done. Behind him, he hears snickers from his friends.

Sakata’s eyes narrow in irritation, but they quickly widen as he leans down and reaches his hand out toward her chin. She responds by letting her jaw fall, and Kei brings his lips just centimeters apart from hers as he blows the smoke into her mouth. When she exhales, he leans down and presses his lips to hers. Sakata responds immediately, pressing back into the kiss and linking her arms behind Kei’s neck. Determined to make a show of it, Kei licks against her lips and she lets him into her mouth. They kiss sloppily and behind him, Kunimi audibly groans in annoyance.

When they break apart, Sakata looks sheepishly in her friend’s direction while Kei readjusts his glasses, which have fogged up slightly. The brunette mutters something and exits the bathroom. When she turns back to him, he can see that her lipstick is smeared slightly and her cheeks are red from more than just makeup.

“Thanks,” she says, bringing a hand through her hair.

“For which part?” Kei grins.

Sakata shrugs in a way that says she’s grateful for both of Kei’s ‘favors.’ “What’s your name?”

“Give me your phone and you’ll have a contact record with all the information you need.” Another groan from Kunimi. Kei’s chest swells with pride as Sakata pulls her phone from her back pocket and unlocks it before handing it to Kei. He creates a record with only his family name and hands it back to her.

“No fair,” she says when she sees it. “I told you my first name.”

“Guess we’ll have to see each other again so you can get mine,” says Kei. He honestly doesn’t know where this hyper-confident flirty side of him came from, but his heart is hammering away at his ribcage and he swears he has enough adrenaline to lift up a car.

Sakata smiles at him before tapping away at her screen. Kei feels his phone buzz in his pocket. “Text me, Tsukishima,” she says. Then she saunters out of the bathroom.

When the door shuts behind her, Kei lifts up both hands and gives his friends the most satisfying middle fingers of his life.

**SUNDAY, 13:16**

Kei finds that he is not particularly interested in texting Sakata. She is attractive, and though they barely interacted aside from swapping spit and smoke, he feels like he can sense a good vibe from her. But when he thinks about sending her a message, it feels like more of a chore than an opportunity to continue whatever they began the night prior. Truly, the only reason he had described her when pressed by his friends was because she was the first female party goer that popped into his head at the moment. That he ended up making out with her only a few minutes later was by complete coincidence.

Despite this, he fights his apathy and does text her, mainly because he wants to continue to rub it in to his shithead friends for as long as he possibly can. She responds fairly quickly, and they end up having a conversation in which Kei learns that she is a first-year who was only at the party because the friend she was with, Yajima, has an older sister who is friends with one of Yachi’s roommates.

[13:16] Kei: So was that your first real college party then?

[13:17] Sakata: yeah, I guess it was

[13:17] Kei: I hope didn’t end up being as boring as you thought when you first came into the bathroom

[13:18] Sakata: it got pretty interesting right after I said that, actually

[13:18] Sakata: :)

They swap a few more messages back and forth until Sakata has to help her roommates with something. When Kei puts his phone down, he realizes he’s hungry and remembers he has leftover takeout in the fridge. That is, until he checks the fridge and doesn’t see the container anywhere.

The door to Oikawa’s room opens and a man that he has never seen exits. He is fully clothed, thankfully, and greets Kei by simply raising his eyebrows and tilting his head back slightly. Oikawa appears behind him after a moment, wearing only pajama pants. An array of hickeys covers his torso rather than a shirt.

Kei returns to searching the fridge for his food as Oikawa bids his guest goodbye. When he can’t find it, he closes the door with a huff and turns to his roommate. “Did you eat my leftovers?”

“Good morning to you too, Tsukki-chan,” says Oikawa.

“It’s the afternoon.” At this, Oikawa only shrugs. “Well, did you?”

“ _I_ didn’t eat it,” Oikawa says. For a moment Kei is led to believe that his timid other roommate is the thief, when Oikawa continues. “But I did offer it to Masami-chan. He was hungry after all the exercise we -”

“Oikawa, what the fuck?” Kei says, partially because he’s (rightfully) irritated and partially because he has no interest in hearing about Oikawa’s sex adventures.

“I’m sorry!” Oikawa whines. “I will buy you a replacement meal, would you like that?”

“I think that’s only fair.”

“Okay,” Oikawa smiles, then looks pensive. “I just need until Friday, so I can get paid.”

Kei groans and purposefully bumps into Oikawa’s shoulder on his way back to his room, where flops onto his bed belly-first.

**TUESDAY, 10:15**

It’s the first day of classes and Kei is already tired. He hadn’t made as much of an effort to fix his sleep schedule as he ought to have prior to school starting up again, so he couldn’t fall asleep until well after midnight. When his alarm goes off at 08:00, he fights the urge to chuck his phone across the room.

He does his best to stay alert during his first class of the day, but there’s only so much attention he can dedicate to going over the syllabus. He grabs a coffee before his second class and nearly drops it when he enters the lecture hall and sees Sakata sitting in the center of one of the rows of seats. She turns her head and sees him almost instantly, much to his chagrin. He has no option other than to sit near her now. He makes the quick decision to take his seat in the row behind her so that he at least puts some distance between them.

“When you said you were studying biology I never thought we’d have a class together,” laughs Sakata after they exchange polite greetings. She twists in her seat to face him, her arms draped along the back of her chair.

“Yeah, I need an Arts credit and a theater studies class seemed as good as any, so…”

“Are you into theater much?”

“Not at all,” Kei says, and they both chuckle. He takes a sip of his coffee to give himself a moment to remember what she said her major was when they had texted the other day. Thankfully, it comes to him. “I guess this is probably a relevant class for the Modern Lit track though, right?”

Sakata nods and tells him about the other classes she’s taking until the professor begins class. Kei is anxious for the entire 50 minute duration, in part because Sakata is there but also because the professor, who speaks in a thick Russian accent, has made it clear that just because this is an elective for many of the students does not mean it will be easy. Just before dismissing class, she mentions that she also oversees the Drama Club and that anyone who attends its first meeting - tonight at 19:00 - will receive 10 points toward their first test. 

He walks out of the lecture hall with Sakata because he has no good reason not to. “Do you think you’ll go tonight?”

Kei shrugs. He had written off the idea almost immediately, as there was little that he considered less appealing than attending a Drama Club meeting. 

“I think I will,” Sakata says as they navigate through the hallway. “I’ve heard this class is really hard. That ten points could be major.”

When they turn a corner, they see Kunimi and Yamaguchi standing by the vending machines. They both widen their eyes when they see Kei and Sakata approaching them together. Kei takes the opportunity to smirk at them.

“Hey, from the party the other night, right?” Sakata gestures at them.

“Yes!” Yamaguchi nods, his voice about three octaves too high to sound normal. He holds out his hand. “Yamaguchi.”

“Kunimi,” the other says, not bothering with a handshake.

“Nice to meet you guys for real, then,” Sakata says, then turns her attention back to Kei. “Well, I have to get to my next class.”

Before he can stop himself, Kei says, “see you tonight, Sakata-chan?”

She nods excitedly before walking away. The look on Kunimi’s face is worth the commitment Kei has just made.

**19:14**

Drama Club is a mistake. Aside from Sakata and a few faces he recognizes from the lecture hall, everyone there seems like a tried and true theater nerd with a personality to match. Kei has nothing against theater types, but he’s thoroughly uncomfortable around loud people who break out into song at random intervals, and he doesn’t understand any of the obscure musical references that several of the club members continually make.

If Sakata is uncomfortable in her seat next to him, she doesn’t show it. Kei can’t get a read on whether or not she’s excited for the “performance warm-up slash improv” activity that they’ll be doing in a few minutes, but he knows damn well there is no way he can bring himself to participate. As everyone stands up to get ready for said activity, Kei mutters to Sakata that he’s going to the bathroom and slinks out of the auditorium as inconspicuously as he can.

He doesn’t actually have to use the bathroom but goes there anyway, and washes his hands for lack of anything better to do. He considers whether or not he should just leave. He’s already put his name on the attendee list, so his ten points toward his test should be safe. But what if his professor somehow knows he left, or Sakata or another of his classmates says something?

He’s distracted from his thoughts when he exits the bathroom and sees another student leaning with his back against the wall, one leg bent so that his foot is also pressed to the tiles behind him. His head is mostly obscured by the hood of his sweatshirt and his face is tilted down as he taps away at his phone, but there’s a hint of unruly black hair that sends a shiver of familiarity up Kei’s spine. He can’t place it until the other occupant of the hallway looks up, directly at him.

Kei stops in his tracks maybe ten feet away. This person whom Kei previously had assumed was just another anonymous student on a campus of thousands is no stranger at all. _What the fuck,_ Kei thinks, a barrage of questions racing in his mind. _Can it really be him? He goes to school here? How have I not seen him until now?_

His face has lost any last remnants of baby fat and he’s not in a volleyball uniform, but there’s no mistaking that hair or the lopsided grin that spreads over his face when he sees Kei.

“Kuroo,” Kei says, his voice quieter than he expected. He coughs and tries again. “Kuroo-san?”

“Tsukishima Kei, as I live and breathe!” Kuroo Tetsurou exclaims. He pockets his phone and approaches Kei, and before he can do anything Kuroo is pulling him into a friendly hug. Mystified and thoroughly not expecting this, Kei just stands there with his hands raised slightly to hover over Kuroo’s lower back. When they separate, Kei feels Kuroo’s eyes giving him a onceover. “What are - are you - actually, were you at the drama club meeting?”

“Uh, yes, for theater class.”

“I was on my way there for the same reason, but ended up running behind. I took one peek in there and decided I’d just study a little harder for the first test.”

“Yeah, I escaped,” Kei says. “You’re in theater studies, too?”

“The afternoon class, yeah. Need an arts credit.”

“Ah, I’m in the morning class. For the same reason.”

“You gonna go back in there?” Kuroo asks, his eyebrows raised.

Kei considers his options. Going back to drama club sounds dreadful, but staying out here means making awkward small talk of the “what have you been up to” variety with Kuroo, who - judging by how he greeted Kei - thinks they are closer than they ever truly were. Before he can respond, though, Kuroo’s expression turns devious.

“I know that if I were going to face a bunch of drama club people, I’d need some assistance,” he says, reaching into his pocket. His hand reappears brandishing an expertly rolled joint. “Do you think you’d need some assistance, too?”

Outside the Arts building, they sit underneath a stairwell leading up to a walking bridge and pass the joint back and forth. Kei feels a bit sheepish smoking directly on campus like this, but Kuroo insists that he’s smoked at this exact spot before multiple times and has never had an issue.

“So you must be in your last year now then, huh?” Kei asks after taking a hit. He hands over the joint, brushing against Kuroo’s calloused fingers lightly as he does.

“Nah, third,” Kuroo says. “I ended up taking a year off last year.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Kuroo doesn’t elaborate, so Kei decides not to press further. If Kuroo wanted to say the reason, he would have. In any case, it explains why Kei never saw Kuroo on campus until now.

“What do you study?” Kei asks instead. He’s not the type to make small talk, but he finds that he’s genuinely curious.

“Sports marketing,” Kuroo answers, his voice heavy with smoke. “I want to become the sleazy guy in suits who attends all the volleyball matches and forces everyone to take his business card.”

“That’s utterly perfect for you.”

“Thank you,” Kuroo laughs, and Kei takes note of the way small creases form around his eyes as he does. It occurs to Kei that he rarely, if ever, saw a genuine chuckle from Kuroo back in their high school days. He was much more accustomed to Kuroo’s purposefully aggravating snickers, which were somehow charming in their own way. Still, he thinks he prefers this softer version of Kuroo. “What about you, Tsukki?”

“Microbiology.”

“You didn’t tell me not to call you Tsukki,” Kuroo grins.

Kei rolls his eyes playfully. “I’ve gotten over that, I guess. I’ve had to.”

“How much you’ve grown,” Kuroo says. He wipes a fake tear from his eye. “From baby crow to...well, adult crow, I guess.”

They both laugh and pass the joint between them as they continue reminiscing about their shared year of volleyball and how Karasuno and Nekoma fared in the years following. They discuss the last time they saw each other in person, which had been at Nationals in Kei’s second year of high school. Karasuno didn’t face off against Nekoma in that tournament, but Kuroo had come to see Kenma and his fellow former teammates play, and made sure to say hi to the Crows when he had the chance.

“So how’s your friend with the killer serve?” Kuroo asks at one point. “Freckles.”

“Yamaguchi,” Kei corrects. “He actually goes here too, so I still see him basically every day.”

“That’s awesome,” Kuroo says. “Do any of the other guys from Karasuno go here?”

“No, but there are some guys from other teams that we hang out with,” Kei says. “Actually, you remember Inarizaki? The twins?”

“No way, they don’t go here, do they?”

“No, but one lives around here and is roommates with that fox-looking middle blocker of theirs, Suna.”

“Oh, the one with the bendy torso!” Kuroo wiggles his own upper body in an attempt to replicate Suna’s spiking form.

“Yeah,” Kei nods. “I hated him whenever we faced them, but turns out he’s not such a bad guy.”

“‘Turns out he’s not such a bad guy’ is probably, like, the catchphrase of your life,” Kuroo teases, and Kei giggles, actually _giggles_ , which he would be more embarrassed about if he weren’t high. “I’d bet at least ten hundred yen you had that thought about me at some point.”

“Wow, a whole ten hundred yen,” Kei deadpans.

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“You didn’t ask one.”

Kuroo arches his brow and tilts his head to the side. “You’re so... _Tsukki_ , Tsukki.”

Kei looks at the ground as he laughs. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

When he raises his eyes, Kuroo is looking directly at him, his green-gray eyes trained on Kei. “It was one,” Kuroo says, his voice low in both volume and pitch. Kei feels his Adam's apple bob in his throat and stares back at the concrete beneath him, unsure of how else to react.

The moment passes and Kuroo smushes the spent joint against the ground. “Well, I think drama club is probably over at this point. Sorry about your ten points.”

“I put my name down on the sign-in sheet, so I’m hoping I still managed to secure them.”

“Smart,” Kuroo says. “Well, I should probably get home, but it was really -” he pauses and Kei glances up at him. Their eyes lock on one another’s again. Kuroo swallows before going on. “It was really nice to catch up, Tsukki.”

“Yeah,” Kei says as they both push themselves off the ground and stand up. “I’ll guess we’ll probably see each other around on campus, yeah?”

Kuroo nods, and they bid each other goodnight before going in their separate directions. As Kei walks to the bus stop, he wonders if he should have asked for Kuroo’s number. _No, that would have been weird,_ he reasons. _It would have made it seem like I’m eager to keep talking to him._

He keeps walking and thinking about it.

_Which I’m not._

Another step.

_Obviously._

At the realization, he comes to a stop.

_Shit._


	2. Black Cat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those who have left comments and kudos! As alluded to before I have not posted any kind of fanfic for over a decade so I had no idea what to expect, but I'm glad to see people enjoying this so far :)
> 
> NOTE: For the sake of the plot, in this story Suna is the same age as Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, and Kunimi (which is 19, making them all under 20, the legal drinking age in Japan). I could have decided to make the fourth member of Tsukishima’s friend group a character who is canonically the same age as them, but I just really love Suna and wanted him to be part of this story, especially because the idea of him being friends with Tsukishima and Kunimi is hilarious. They’re the perfect trio of apathetic snarkers. Poor Yamaguchi.

**THURSDAY, 17:43**

Kuroo Tetsurou does not have social media. Or, if he does, he does not use the name Kuroo Tetsurou on any of his profiles. Kei has thought of the name Kuroo Tetsurou a lot over the past several days, for reasons he cannot exactly pinpoint. Every time he doesn’t have something to actively fixate on - homework, making conversation with Sakata, rubbing said correspondence with Sakata into the faces of his friends - he finds himself thinking about Kuroo’s black hair and bright grin.

In high school, Kuroo had been an annoyance, then less of an annoyance, then something resembling a mentor to Kei - though he never would have admitted it at the time. Kei searches his memories to see if he can find an instance of being fascinated by Kuroo in the way that he finds he is now, but he comes up empty. He only remembers being dead set on wanting to impress him, to _best_ him, when they came up against Nekoma at Nationals. But with volleyball and team rivalries out of the picture, he now sees Kuroo not as a scheming captain but as the person that he is: witty, perceptive, playful. He surprises himself by adding one more word to that list: _attractive._

“What do you think, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi asks. Kei realizes he hasn’t been paying attention to anything his friends have said for the last several minutes, and he doesn’t have the faintest idea what his opinion is being requested for. Yamaguchi, Suna, and Kunimi are looking at him expectantly. They’re seated at a table in the library where they’re all supposed to be doing homework, but none of them are actually bothering to focus on it.

“Sorry, I was spacing out. What?”

“We were talking about pregaming for Matsunami’s party tomorrow night,” Yamaguchi explains. “Do you think we could do it at your place?”

“No,” Kei says instantly.

“Dude, why not?” Kunimi demands.

“Because if we pregame at my place, then I have to clean up after you messy fucks. Plus, Oikawa will probably insert himself into whatever we’re doing and I’d really like to avoid seeing that asshole’s face as much as possible.”

“Uh oh,” Kunimi says. “What’d he do now?”

“Well, first he pawned my food off to some guy he brought to the apartment last week,” Kei recounts, which reminds him that Oikawa owes him food tomorrow. “Then, he and the same guy who ate my food kept me up all night last night thanks to Oikawa’s proclivity for screaming.”

Suna snickers. “Christ. Well, at least he’s getting laid. Good for him.”

“Must be the only one in that flat who is. I can’t imagine your other roommate sees much action, other than his hand,” Kunimi says.

“Oh, so you have something in common with him, then,” Kei quips. Kunimi glares at him.

“Speaking of people in that apartment getting laid,” Suna says. “How are things with Sakata?”

Kei shrugs. “We’re talking.” They all eye him, expecting him to provide more detail, but being terse about Sakata is intentional. He has no interest in pursuing her romantically, but these three don’t need to know that. By offering little information to them, it makes it seem like he’s hiding the juicy details, when in reality he’s telling the boring truth.

“What’d you do with her on Tuesday night, by the way?” Kunimi asks.

Kei is confused at first, because he can only associate Tuesday night with Kuroo -- which reminds him that he hasn’t even told Yamaguchi about running into him yet. Then he remembers the reason he bumped into Kuroo in the first place. “Oh, there was this extra credit opportunity for one of our classes,” he says dismissively, then turns to Yamaguchi. “By the way, Yamaguchi, guess who I ran into the other night.”

“I hate guessing,” Yamaguchi whines.

“Oh my god, just guess.”

“Uhhh, Kageyama.”

“No.”

“Hinata.”

“No. He doesn’t even live in Japan right now.”

“So?” Yamaguchi pouts. “This is why I hate guessing.”

“Ugh, fine. I saw Kuroo.”

“Kuroo, like Nekoma Kuroo?”

“Nekoma?” Suna asks, perking up at the mention of a team whose name he recognizes.

“Yes, like Nekoma Kuroo,” Kei nods, turning to each of them as he does so. “He goes here, apparently. We smoked a joint together.”

“Better not have been my weed,” Suna says.

“It wasn’t, dickhead.”

“Kuroo from Nekoma,” Yamaguchi says meditatively, like he’s transporting himself back in time.

“Who is Kuroo?” Kunimi asks, clearly agitated at being the only member of the group with no context.

“He was the captain of Nekoma’s volleyball team when we were first years,” says Yamaguchi. “We had a bunch of practice matches with them and then played them at Nationals that year.”

“Oh,” Kunimi says. “I think I remember watching that game.”

“From Miyagi,” Kei says, doing his best to keep his mouth a flat line rather than the antagonistic grin that’s just begging to appear. “You know, ‘cause you weren’t _at_ Nationals.”

Yamaguchi snickers and Kei loses his fight to keep his grin concealed. Even Suna looks amused.

“Yeah, yeah, fuck you both too,” Kunimi huffs at the Karasuno alumni, folding his arms against his chest as he slumps back in his seat.

Yamaguchi recovers from his laughter, then turns to Kei. “You should invite Sakata tomorrow night.” Kei wants to frown, but catches himself. He’d much prefer Yamaguchi continue reminiscing with him about Kuroo than latch onto the idea of Kei and Sakata as an item.

“To your place,” Suna adds. “Where we’re pregaming.”

“We are not pregaming at my place.”  
  


**FRIDAY, 21:29**

They end up pregaming at Kei’s place. Once he gets over his initial irritation of having to host, it actually ends up being somewhat enjoyable. Kei took advantage of Oikawa being over 20 and cashed in his IOU for beer and liquor instead of food. He is thankful it’s a small gathering - just the four of them, plus Yachi and two of her friends, one of whom has had a streak of bad luck during the drinking games they’ve been playing and is already far more intoxicated than the rest of them are. Yachi giggles as said friend blatantly flirts with Suna, who seems to be enjoying the attention.

Oikawa emerges from his room from time to time, under the pretense of checking in on Kunimi to make sure his “precious kouhai isn’t drinking himself sick.” But otherwise, he’s on surprisingly good behavior, though Kei’s friends snicker when they hear the nickname “Tsukki-chan.”

Still, Kei nearly slaps Kunimi when he suggests Oikawa accompany them to the party.

“Why, that is so kind of you to invite me, Kuni-chan,” Oikawa says. “But I’m afraid I’m expecting a guest later.”

Kei feels a vein in his forehead bulging while Yamaguchi pats his shoulder sympathetically.

When they arrive at the party, nearly an hour later, it’s crowded and sweaty and loud. Kei shouts over the music in an attempt to make conversation with some people he recognizes from class before seeking out Yamaguchi so they can look for Suna, who has reclaimed his weed from Kei’s apartment. They end up finding him on the back porch making out with Yachi’s friend, so they decide to leave them be. Back inside, Kei’s pocket buzzes.

[22:48] Sakata: what are you up to tonight?

[22:49] Kei: At a friend of a friend’s party. You?

[22:49] Sakata: hanging out with Yajima and her sister. they’re watching some dumb reality show and I’m bored.

Kei considers the implications of Sakata’s text for a moment and sighs. He feels bad that she’s having a dull first Friday night of college, and it’s not like she’s entirely unenjoyable to be around.

[22:51] Kei: You should come here

**01:11**

Kei is drunk and high and so is Sakata. He had gulped down a beer while waiting for her to arrive and then promptly did a “welcome to the party” shot with her and Yachi, and then a “here’s to your first Friday night of college” shot with her and Yamaguchi, and then a “taking shots is fun so we’re not going to come up with an excuse for this one” shot with just Sakata. Not only that, but Suna decided he wanted Kei to protect his stash again just before he left with Yachi’s friend, so Kei borrowed a pipe from one of the apartment’s residents and smoked a generous amount of weed with Sakata, Kunimi, and Yamaguchi, as well as some random other party goers who passed by. Suna would no doubt complain when he next saw his depleted supply, but he was hopefully having a good enough night to make up for it.

As the party winds down, Kei considers finding his friends and leaving with them, but Sakata grabs his hand and tells him to follow her to the upstairs balcony so they can look at the moon, which is apparently full tonight. Kei’s not entirely sure what’s so interesting about looking at a full moon, but he’s too foggy-headed to object. The balcony is attached to one of the bedrooms and when they walk through it, Sakata closes the door behind Kei before launching herself at him, pressing her mouth firmly to his.

Kei should want this. He’s drunk enough to have no shame, and he’s never been the type to lose interest in sex while high. But there is no part of him that stirs when Sakata kisses him, nor when she presses her body flush against him and hooks her arms behind his neck. He places his hands on either side of her waist and lets her kiss him, not knowing what else to do. She’s attractive and sweet and no slouch when it comes to intelligence but he just can’t find it within himself to want what she so clearly does.

Sakata’s tongue leaves his mouth and she kisses along his jaw before sinking down to her knees. Kei can barely process what’s happening before she’s hooked her fingers at the top of his waistband. As she brings one hand closer to his zipper, he realizes that it’s not only his brain that’s resisting this; his body, too, has failed to respond to Sakata’s advances. Instinctively, he jolts back, hitting his head against the wall with a light thunk.

“Oh,” Sakata says as she lifts herself off her knees. “I’m sorry if I -”

“No,” Kei cuts her off, breathing heavily. “I just, um,” he rubs the back of his head, which feels heavy. “My head’s starting to hurt. I think it’s all the shots, or whatever.”

“Oh, yeah,” Sakata giggles. “There was a lot of that. Do you think you want to -”

“I should probably get home,” Kei feels like an asshole for interrupting her again, but he doesn’t want to deal with whatever question she was about to pose. Sakata looks disappointed, so Kei adds, “I need to make sure I drink water and get sleep… lots of studying to do tomorrow. You know.”

Sakata just looks at him for a moment, a neutral expression on her face. “Right,” she says finally. “Well, thanks for inviting me.”

 _Shit_ , Kei thinks, realizing he’s the reason Sakata came to the party, and now he’s trying to abandon her and leave her to get home on her own in the middle of the night. “Oh, uh, where do you live?”

She tells him, and he realizes that her apartment isn’t far from where Yamaguchi and Kunimi live. He finds them and asks them to walk her home, and ignores their curious stares as he leaves alone.

**WEDNESDAY, 12:41**

“I feel like I’m already behind on schoolwork,” Yamaguchi groans as he places his bento on the cafe table before sitting down next to Kei. Kei’s stomach rumbles as he examines the contents of Yamaguchi’s lunch; his overpriced, lukewarm soup from one of the campus vendors pales in comparison to the tonkatsu, rice, and assortment of vegetables that Yamaguchi has prepared. Kei glances over to Kunimi’s lunch and notices that its contents are exactly the same.

“You guys are making lunch together?” Kei asks, pointing between the identical bentos. “That’s adorable.”

“Fuck off,” Kunimi says around a mouth of rice. He swallows before continuing. “Yamaguchi is a meal prep expert.”

“I hope you’re getting something in exchange for your cooking,” Suna says to Yamaguchi.

“I take out the trash _and_ do dishes as payment,” Kunimi says defensively.

“How wonderfully domestic,” Suna responds. “I wish Atsumu did literally _anything_ around the apartment. Why couldn’t I have lived with the twin who actually knows how to use an oven?”

“I can’t believe there’s _two_ of him,” Kunimi shivers, then turns to Kei. “Does Oikawa do much cooking?”

Kei scowls. “What do you think?”

Kunimi only snickers in response, but cuts himself off abruptly and fixes his eyes at something behind Kei. When he glances over his shoulder, he blanches at the sight of Sakata and her friend Yajima standing there. 

“Hi!” Sakata beams down at him. She greets the rest of the group with a smile. 

“Oh, hey,” Kei says with minimal inflection. Sakata looks temporarily put off by his lackluster greeting but quickly recovers.

In his class with Sakata the day before, Kei had managed to smooth over any tension that lingered from his hasty exit on Friday night by telling her all about the nasty hangover he had the day after. He hadn’t even needed to exaggerate; all the shots, on top of the beers he’d had before them, had contributed to one of the worst hangovers of his life. It was a miracle he hadn’t thrown up at any point. After he described being more or less bedridden all day on Saturday, Sakata seemed thoroughly convinced by the “not feeling well” act he’d used before leaving the party.

Still, even now he can’t help but feel uncomfortable with Sakata’s consistent presence, though he’s not entirely sure why. Perhaps it’s because she came so close to pressing her hand against his limp dick.

“So, um, Yajima’s sister is having a party on Friday night and we were wondering if you’d all like to come.” She goes into detail about the location and the types of people who will be there. As she talks, Kei is so busy thinking of excuses to get out of it that when she finishes speaking, he registers it a moment too late to seem casual.

“Uh,” Kei starts, glancing back at his friends. Both Kunimi and Yamaguchi are looking at him like he’s an idiot for not graciously accepting the invite yet. Suna only looks vaguely amused. He turns back to Sakata. “We might have something already lined up, but we’ll -”

“No, that fell through,” Kunimi interjects. Kei glares at him and Kunimi glares right back, with a look on his face that says _what the hell are you doing?_ “Tsukishima’s just a dipshit. We’ll be there, Sakata-chan.”

Sakata giggles at the insult and places a hand on Kei’s shoulder. It takes everything in him not to recoil. “Well, awesome! We’ll see you there!” She and Yajima scurry off. Kei wiggles his shoulder as if to get evidence of her touch off of him. It doesn’t work.

“Are you having a stroke or something?” Kunimi asks Kei. Suna snorts. Yamaguchi looks mildly concerned.

“I just don’t like making commitments on the spot like that,” Kei shrugs.

“I never took you as a play-hard-to-get type,” Suna says. “First you make her walk home with your friends from a party, then this.”

“Is your dick not working or something?” Kunimi implores.

“My dick is fine, thank you very much,” Kei snaps, although he wondered the same thing on Friday. “She’s a first-year. I don’t want to corrupt her.”

“Gross,” Suna says.

“Not what I meant,” Kei groans.

Yamaguchi laughs but turns to Suna. “Where do you get off saying gross, anyway? We saw you practically humping Suzaki-chan at the party before you two disappeared.”

The edges of Suna’s lips curl up into a devilish smile. “Jealous, are we?”

Yamaguchi opens his mouth to deny it, but cuts himself off before slumping his shoulders and saying, “yes.”

Kei laughs with the others and then twists in his seat so he can bend down to where his bag sits on the floor. He pulls his phone out from a side pocket and, as he unbends, something across the room catches his eye and his stomach drops when he sees what it is - or, more accurately, _who_ it is. Messy black hair. Oversized gray hoodie. Black skinny jeans.

Kuroo.

He’s across the cafe area from where Kei sits, walking unhurriedly over to where a group of students appears to be waiting for him. His eyes glance over to meet Kei’s for a moment, and Kei swears he sees him tilt his head up ever so slightly as if to acknowledge his presence. 

“You okay, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi asks. Kei realizes he’s been half-hunched over for at least 15 seconds now. He snaps upright and nods. Yamaguchi eyes him with gentle concern.

“I saw -” Kei starts, but realizes he doesn’t want to explain that it was Kuroo who made him freeze up like that. “I saw someone who I thought went to high school with us. But it wasn’t them.”

**FRIDAY, 15:03**

With barely any heads up, Suna has decided that Kei is responsible for providing the four of them with alcohol for the night, due to the amount of Suna’s weed that Kei “stole” the previous week. Kei tries to fight it, but Kunimi’s never one to volunteer for such things and Yamaguchi isn’t eager to be the one responsible for finding alcohol, either.

While waiting for the bus, Kei texts the only person he can think of - though he really doesn’t want to.

[15:03] Kei: Are you at the apartment?

[15:06] Oikawa: Tsukki-chan! (╯✧▽✧)╯

[15:06] Oikawa: how lovely to hear from my dearest roomie!

[15:06] Oikawa: interested in hanging out with your senpai, are you?

[15:07] Kei: I need alcohol for tonight.

[15:08] Oikawa: oh (￣□￣」)

[15:08] Oikawa: well I still choose to believe you asked because you want to hang out with me

[15:09] Oikawa: because either way, I’m working until 22:00 so I can’t oblige you

[15:09] Oikawa: (´｡• ω •｡`)

Kei can’t tell if he wants to throw his phone to the ground because he’s shit out of luck as far as finding beer is concerned, or because of Oikawa’s incessant emoticon usage, but regardless he resists the urge. When the bus comes, he shuffles onto it, eyes glued to his phone as he considers his options. He sits down at the first seat that his periphery vision identifies as available. 

“Oi,” a voice next to him says. Kei’s head snaps up, and his heart threatens to explode out of his chest when he realizes he has seated himself directly next to Kuroo Tetsurou, of all people.

His mouth hangs open for just a second too long. “Hey,” he manages.

“Going home?” 

Kei nods, still in shock. Kuroo returns to a text he was composing on his phone and it may be all in Kei’s head, but the silence between them is anything but comfortable. His skull feels like it’s buzzing and he can’t think of a single thing to say, not even to make generic small talk. 

_Why am I letting him make me like_ this? Kei wonders. _He’s just Kuroo. The guy who gave me blocking tips and always seemed to pay a lot of attention to me at training camps. But he gave all the younger kids tips and -_

An idea interrupts Kei’s thoughts and he turns to Kuroo. “You’re twenty, right?”

Kuroo furrows his brows in confusion, then grins when understanding hits him. “Twenty-one.”

**15:54**

Kuroo doesn’t have his wallet on him, so he needs to go back to his place first to retrieve it. The idea of an adult not keeping their wallet with them at all times is strange to Kei, but he keeps that to himself. He doesn’t remember nodding when Kuroo invited him back to his apartment but ends up there nevertheless, standing in the TV area of Kuroo’s apartment while its inhabitant searches his room for his wallet. It’s a small, one-bedroom apartment on the third floor of a building located a twenty-minute walk from campus. After agreeing to purchase Kei alcohol, Kuroo explained that it was unusual for him to be on the bus because he typically walks home, but was “feeling lazy” today. Kei neglected to mention that his own apartment is only a fifteen minute walk from campus, and he always takes the bus.

“Ah ha!” Kuroo exclaims just before walking out of his room. 

“Did you find it?”

“No,” Kuroo says, grinning. He holds up a joint that looks similar to the one they shared after ditching the drama club meeting. “Found something even better.”

They end up sitting on the floor of Kuroo’s bedroom after he clears the dirty laundry on the ground by kicking it into his closet. They begin passing the joint back and forth, Kei leaning on the wall and Kuroo propped up against his bed.

“So how tall are you these days, Tsukki?” Kuroo asks as he stretches his arm out to hand Kei the joint. Just like on the first night they smoked together, their fingers brush against each other’s as they make the exchange. This time, Kei notices the way his fingers feel warm where Kuroo’s have touched them.

“I was exactly 195 centimeters the last time I checked, which was around the end of high school,” Kei says. “So I may be a bit taller now, but I’m not quite sure. What about you? I feel like I remember you being way taller when I saw you at Nationals my second year.”

“Yeah, I had a super unexpected growth spurt after graduating high school. I’m right around 195 now, too.” Kei is prepared to make some kind of snarky remark about how Kuroo couldn’t let himself be outdone by him, or something of that nature, when Kuroo pulls up the sleeve of his hoodie to scratch at his arm and Kei is distracted by what appears to be ink on his wrist.

“Is that a tattoo?”

“Oh, yeah,” Kuroo says, and looks at his wrist as though only just remembering it’s there. He holds it out for Kei to see. “My only one. Got it on impulse a couple years back.”

Kei leans his head in to get a better look at it. On Kuroo’s wrist is a simple, opaque silhouette of a cat. “A cat for Nekoma?”

Kuroo grins. “Well, of course.”

“And black,” Kei says. “Like Kuro.”

“Like Kuro.” 

Kei glances up from Kuroo’s arm and realizes how close their faces are. He suddenly feels hideously embarrassed when Kuroo meets his gaze, and directs his eyes back to the tattoo. He asks the first thing he can think of. “Does the skin where you get a tattoo feel any different than the rest of your skin?”

“At first it does. Like, the tattooed part feels like it’s rising off your skin. But once it heals, not really. You can feel if you want.”

“Oh, that’s okay -”

“Oh, just do it,” Kuroo says and grabs Kei’s hand from where it rests on the carpet. He places Kei’s hand so that the pads of his index and middle fingers are against the tattooed part of Kuroo’s wrist. Kuroo takes his hand away and Kei wills his fingers to stay steady as they brush gently along the ink and past it so that he can compare the texture of the skin that is and isn’t tattooed. He feels no difference and tells Kuroo as much while pulling his hand away quickly.

Kei swallows. Touching someone’s wrist has never felt so intimate. “Do you want more?”

“Hm?”

“Tattoos.”

Kuroo wrinkles his nose. “Probably not. Like I said, it was a spur of the moment decision. And it honestly hurt more than I had expected. What about you, would you get any?”

Kei shrugs. “Probably not. I don’t like needles. But I’ve thought about what I would get if I did.”

“Let me guess, crows.”

“Please,” Kei says, although he’d be lying if he said he’d never considered it. “I’m not so sentimental.”

“Suuuure, Tsukki.”

“You can believe whatever you want,” says Kei.

“And I will,” Kuroo says. “So what would you get?”

“Probably something based on my name. Like, Kei means firefly, so I could get that. Or ‘Tsuki’ means moon, so a moon tattoo of some kind might be cool.”

“You could combine them, a firefly and a moon,” Kuroo says, tapping his index finger to his jaw pensively. Then he lowers his hand and looks right in Kei’s eyes, before quietly adding, “both emit light.”

Kei wants to yank his sweater up over his head and hide his face, afraid of what his searing cheeks may look like to Kuroo. If they’re as red as they feel, he’s in trouble.

“I’m hungry,” Kuroo says suddenly, and hoists himself up off the floor. “You?”

Kei stares at the carpet as he responds. “I could eat.”

In the kitchen, Kuroo prepares some fish and rice which they eat on his couch. Kei thinks Kuroo will turn the TV on to play while they eat, but instead they just continue talking, poking fun at each other all the while. It doesn’t occur to Kei how much time has passed until he feels his phone buzz several times in his pocket.

 **Group Chat:** **_Boyzzzzzzz_ **

[18:53] Kunimi: what’s the plan tonight

[18:53] Kunimi: you got the goods, Tsukishima?

[18:53] Suna: should we pregame somewhere?

[18:54] Suna: by ‘somewhere’ I mean Tsukishima’s apartment

Kei knows he needs to text them back but if he does that, he’ll have no good way to get out of his prior obligations and continue spending time with Kuroo, which, he realizes, is all he really wants to do right now. He pockets his phone and decides to deal with them later.

“Everything good?” Kuroo asks. Kei nods and opens his mouth to speak when there’s knocking at Kuroo’s door. “Oh shit,” he says. “What time is it?”

“Almost 19:00,” Kei answers.

“Ah, I forgot,” Kuroo says. “I’m having some friends over, that must be them.”

Kei tries to keep his expression level, but he wants to sink into the couch. He supposes this is for the best, as now he can attend to his friends and -

“I’ll go get them, but if you want you should stay,” Kuroo says. “They’ll love you.”

Kei is grateful that Kuroo hurries to the door so that this time, his blushing will definitely go unnoticed. Kei sits forward on the edge of the couch as Kuroo welcomes in his guests - two guys and one girl, the latter of whom looks vaguely familiar to Kei - and leads them to the TV area.

“This is my friend Tsukishima,” Kuroo says to them. He then introduces his two male friends to Kei, but their names are instantly forgotten.

“And this,” Kuroo says, gesturing at the woman. She has silvery-blonde hair that hangs past her shoulders in loose curls. “Well, actually, you may remember her brother. Lev, the half-Russian giant in your year?”

“Of course I remember Lev.”

“Well this is his sister, Alisa,” Kuroo says. Then he wraps his arm around her waist. “And my girlfriend.”

Kei feels like all the breath has been knocked from his chest. Alisa is saying something to him, probably a greeting, but all he hears is a high pitched tone screaming in his ears.

The two male friends join Kei on the couch while Kuroo pulls a plush bean bag chair out of a closet and sits on it with Alisa between his legs, her back pressed against his chest.

Kei considers leaving. He wouldn’t even have to make up an excuse - the buzzing in his pocket hasn’t stopped. But he stays, drinking beers from the six pack that Kuroo’s friends brought over and playing card games. Still, the gnawing feeling in his chest lingers through the night, and he knows that he has stumbled into something very, very bad.

**Group Chat:** **_Boyzzzzzzz_ **

[19:04] Kunimi: Tsukishimaaaa

[19:10] Kunimi: if you can’t find beer it’s fine let’s just figure out a new game plan

[19:23] Yamaguchi: Tsukki?

[19:24] Suna: should we be worried

**_Messages with Yamaguchi Tadashi_ **

[19:30] Yamaguchi: Tsukki are you okay?

[19:46] Yamaguchi: I’m trying not to be myself and freak out right now...

[20:32] Yamaguchi: Tsukki please let us know if you’re okay.

[21:20] Yamaguchi: I came by your apartment and you weren’t there so I’m officially freaking out.

Missed call from Yamaguchi Tadashi (6)

**_Messages with Sakata Asuka_ **

[21:46] Sakata: when do you think you guys will be here?

[21:52] Sakata: if you need the address again lmk

**_Messages with Yamaguchi Tadashi_ **

[23:12] Kei: I’m okay

[23:12] Kei: Sorry

**_Messages with Sakata Asuka_ **

[23:31] Sakata: you guys coming??

[01:59] Sakata: the least you could have done is texted me.

**_Messages with Kuroo Tetsurou_ **

[02:02] Kei: Made it home okay

[02:02] Kei: Thank you for having me

[02:02] Kei: Your friends are great

[02:04] Kuroo: glad to hear it! they’re all right i guess ;)

[02:04] Kuroo: g’night Tsukki

[02:04] Kuroo: !

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read somewhere that post-timeskip Kuroo is 6'5. I have no idea if it's true, but I'm now obsessed with the idea that these two are the same height.


	3. Link and Zero Suit Samus

**SATURDAY, 14:15**

“He’s alive,” Suna observes as Kei approaches the table his friends occupy at the library. In one of his hands is a large coffee, which today feels less like a pick-me-up and more like an absolute necessity. He woke up only a few hours prior to joining his friends here, having stayed at Kuroo’s place until nearly 02:00 the night before. Kei is thankful that today is Saturday so that he can still try to fix his sleep schedule by waking up earlier tomorrow, but a part of him knows that he’ll probably still wind up exhausted on Monday.

“What the hell happened?” Kunimi demands. “Going AWOL like that is not cool. Yamaguchi nearly had a heart attack before you texted.”

Kei grimaces. Of the three of them, he feels worst about having abandoned and scared Yamaguchi, who looks like he didn’t get a great night’s sleep, either.

“I’m really sorry,” he says, looking at Yamaguchi. He sets his coffee down on the table and holds his bag in his lap as he fishes his laptop out of it. “I had some family issues come up and couldn’t get to my phone for a bit.”

“Family issues,” Kunimi repeats, an eyebrow raised. “Reeks of bullshit, but okay.”

Yamaguchi coughs, and Kei sees him give Kunimi a meaningful look. Kei is grateful that Yamaguchi recognizes that if Kei says he has family matters to attend to, it’s not to be taken lightly. He feels bad, however, that he’s using this to his advantage so he can lie to his best friend of over a decade.

Yamaguchi turns to Kei and lowers his voice. “Everything okay?”

Kei shrugs and gives a noncommittal nod. _I feel like such an asshole,_ he thinks. _I_ am _such an asshole._

Kunimi shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He’s blunt and wears his no-bullshit attitude on his sleeve, but isn’t a dick deep down. “Well,” he says more softly. “Glad you’re okay. We were worried.”

Kei stares at his lap. “I’m sorry. I am. I feel bad for worrying you guys.”

“Make it up to us,” Suna suggests. “How ‘bout you host a party at your place next weekend, since we didn’t end up making it to the one last night.”

Kei sighs. He really, _really_ does not want to host a party, but he’s already lied straight to their faces and left them to worry on a Friday night when they should have been getting drunk and having fun. He can hardly say no, now.

He looks up at them. “Saturday night?”

**SUNDAY, 21:19**

Kei stares at the screen of his laptop, which sits atop the blanket on his lap. He’s supposed to be doing homework, but got distracted and started looking for Kuroo on social media once again. When he still found no relevant results, he looked up Alisa Haiba, and found only a private Instagram account. 

He yawns. In an effort to avoid becoming nocturnal, he forced himself out of bed shortly before 09:00 this morning, which meant he only got around five hours of sleep. He hadn’t meant to stay up so late, but he had fruitlessly turned from side to side in his bed for hours as he thought about all things Kuroo: his messy black hair (is it as soft as it looks?), his charmingly crooked grin, his slender wrist and the black cat that adorns it. At some point during the night, it occurred to Kei that not only had he never fixated this way on a guy, but that he had never thought like this about _anyone_. In high school, he’d gone out with girls occasionally, but he never crushed on anyone; it was always girls who approached him with letters or chocolate. He’d gone on dates with them because he felt like that was what he was supposed to do in such situations. He’d kissed them because that’s what guys did after dates. He’d lost his virginity to a girl shortly before graduating high school because it felt like a burden and he wanted it done with.

But now he’s starting to understand what Yamaguchi would talk about during their after-school study sessions when their conversations would inevitably stray from classwork. He remembers a particular time when Yamaguchi was crushing hard on a girl in their class.  
  


_“We’ve been in the same class for months and I’m not even sure she knows my name,” Yamaguchi sighed._

_“If you’ve barely even talked to her, how do you know that you like her?” Kei was genuinely confused._

_Yamaguchi looked at Kei like he was an alien. “You don’t have to know someone well to have a crush on them, Tsukki.”_

_“Don’t you?”_

_“No,” Yamaguchi was defiant. “If you did, then it wouldn’t make sense why my heart always speeds up when I see her, or whenever she talks in class. And… well, haven’t you ever gotten that feeling? Like your stomach is going to fall out of your butt?”_

_“Is that a Mean Girls quote?”_

_“Yes, but you don’t get to make fun of me because you recognized where it’s from too,” Yamaguchi said. “Don’t ignore the question.”_

  
Kei had ignored that question because he had no idea what the hell Yamaguchi was talking about. But now, he understands. Whenever he sees Kuroo, and even sometimes when he just thinks about him, his stomach does indeed feel like it’s going to fall out of his butt. _How romantic,_ he thinks.

He sighs and types the keyboard shortcut to trigger an incognito window. He has considered doing what he is about to do a few times, but still feels extremely fucking stupid actually doing it. Regardless, it will nag at him until he bites the bullet, and so he types “how to know if you’re gay” into the search bar.

He honestly didn’t really know what to expect, but the results are disappointing. Most of the results that Google suggests simply talk about how discovering one’s sexuality is confusing and complicated, and how putting labels on oneself isn’t always necessary. It’s nothing that Kei disagrees with, but it’s really not helpful.

Many articles discuss the realities of being gay for teens. While Kei is still technically a teenager at 19, he gets the feeling that these articles are meant for middle and high schoolers who are still learning what sex is even all about, not second-year college students who have definitely had their penis inside a vagina or two, thank you very much. Other articles talk about how to come out to one’s parents, a thought which sends a chill down his spine. Kei hasn’t decided if he’s gay, or some form of not-straight yet, not even close, but the thought of telling his mother that he’s interested in men makes him feel vaguely nauseous. Though he supposes that telling her much of anything about his life makes him feel that way.

He decides to fully commit himself to treating Google as his therapist and enters a new search: “I think I like a boy.” Of course, the results are all about how to know if you, presumably a girl, like a boy. Kei feels like a moron for not having predicted this, but he’s still intrigued by the prospect of an article telling him whether or not he indeed has a crush. He clicks a link that claims to have the definitive list of ways to know if you’re crushing on someone, and scans the text. There are several items on the list that make Kei feel like it’s too early for him to even consider having a crush, such as “you struggle to picture your life without him” and “you’ve started to imagine your future together.” Kei doubts himself for a moment. _Do you have to picture yourself walking down the damn aisle to know if you like someone or not?!_

But there are other items on the list that feel more relevant:

  1. You think about him all the time (check)
  2. You’ve been getting jealous (check - he remembers idly thinking that he wished he could have sat with his back against Kuroo’s chest in the bean bag chair, instead of Alisa)
  3. You go out of your way for him (check - if ditching your friends for hours on a Friday night counts)



Kei navigates back to the search results page and goes to click on another link when he hears a knock on his door. It startles him so much that his legs jerk upward and his laptop nearly careens off the bed. Kei catches it just in time.

“Tsukki-chan!” Oikawa sings. “Stop jacking off and come hang out with your roommates!”

Kei sighs and slams his laptop shut before getting out of bed. “Just because I live with you does not mean we need to do bonding activities, Oikawa.” He walks out into the common area and is surprised to see their roommate, Ebihara, sitting on the couch. Since moving into the apartment, Kei has only caught glimpses of him when Ebihara needed food from the fridge or to use the bathroom. All Kei knows about him is that he’s a year older than Oikawa and has some job that allows him to work from home.

“I disagree, Tsukki-chan,” Oikawa says, his voice still maintaining a sing-song quality to it. “Ebi-chan and I are going to watch a movie and thought it would be fitting if you joined us!”

Kei glances at Ebihara, whose expression shifts just slightly enough to communicate that he has been harassed into this by Oikawa, too.

“Whatever,” Kei murmurs. “What movie?”

They end up watching a Marvel movie that Kei has already seen, mainly because it was the only movie that wasn’t a rom-com that Oikawa would allow. Kei doesn’t even hate rom-coms, but he really doesn’t need to watch 90 minutes of characters pining over one another at the moment.

Halfway through the movie, Kei’s phone buzzes and his heart rate picks up when he sees that it’s none other than Kuroo texting him.  
  


[22:46] Kuroo: you sure you don’t want a crow tattoo? this one is pretty sick

[22:46] Kuroo: [image attachment]  
  


The image is a picture of a man’s chest with a photo-realistic crow inked across it. It’s no doubt a beautiful tattoo - the details and shading are clearly phenomenal, even to Kei, who knows quite little about the art of tattooing. Still, even if Kei _were_ to get a crow tattoo (which, as far as Kuroo gets to be concerned, he has absolutely never so much as considered), it would be a _swarm_ of crows. Twelve of them.  
  


[22:49] Kei: Did you look up pictures of crow tattoos just to bully me into getting one?

[22:50] Kuroo: nahhhh this was on reddit

[22:50] Kuroo: made me think of you  
  


Kei’s face heats up and he quickly tucks his phone away before Oikawa can see him blushing with his phone out. Even if it’s not clear who Kei is texting, he knows Oikawa would easily put two and two together and badger him endlessly until he found out who was making Kei turn into a tomato.

He tries to focus his attention on the movie, but all he can think about is Kuroo. He sinks into the couch, and dares it to swallow him whole.

**TUESDAY, 10:17**

Kei is not late for class but he still feels like he’s running behind as he makes his way to the Arts building. He has texted Sakata multiple times over the past several days to apologize for Friday night, but she hasn’t replied once. While he won’t necessarily be heartbroken if this is the end of whatever their strange relationship is, he _does_ feel like a Grade-A asshole and, at the very least, would like to sincerely apologize. So getting to class with enough time to have a conversation before the professor starts lecturing is paramount.

When he arrives at the lecture hall, Sakata is sitting in one of the side aisles instead of her usual spot in the middle, which Kei takes as a sign that she is trying to avoid him. Standing in the doorway for a moment, he steels himself with a deep breath in and ambles over to her. He greets her with a simple “Hi, Sakata-chan,” and she looks up at him with a blank expression on her face, which feels menacing considering how generous she typically is with her smile.

“I’m really sorry,” he says as he sits down on the other side of the empty seat next to her. He begins speaking quickly in a quiet voice. “About Friday night. I was a total asshole for not texting you. If it makes you feel any better, I left my friends in the dark as well.”

For a moment, Sakata only stares at him. When she speaks, her voice is controlled and emotionless. “It doesn’t make me feel better.”

“What?”

“That your friends didn’t know where you were,” Sakata clarifies.

“Oh.”

Sakata sighs and looks as though she is carefully considering her next words before she speaks again. “I just felt really stupid on Friday. Like I thought you were interested in me and then you ghosted me.”

“You’re not stupid,” Kei says. He has no idea if it’s the right thing to say but it’s what comes to mind first. “I’m really sorry that I made you feel that way. I had some stuff come up that I wish I could explain but please trust that it was not my intention to hurt you.” He decides that he doesn’t want to use the “family issues” excuse that he used with his friends. The fewer people who have any knowledge of how messy his family life really is, the better.

They both glance briefly in the direction of the podium at the front of the lecture hall as their professor approaches it. Kei looks back at Sakata and their eyes lock on one another’s.

“Thank you for your apology,” Sakata whispers, and offers a small smile. She quickly gets out of her seat and plunks herself down in the chair between them, then places her hand on Kei’s briefly and squeezes gently before returning it to her desk and facing front to pay attention to the professor. The gesture sends some warmth to Kei’s heart, similar to how he feels when Yamaguchi brings him strawberry fruit snacks without being asked. When they go in their separate directions after class, Kei brings open his chat with her on his phone.  
  


[11:25] Kei: Having a party at my place on Saturday. Please come?

[11:31] Sakata: wouldn’t miss it :)

**FRIDAY, 18:32  
  
**

[18:32] Kuroo: I just realized I never actually bought you beer last week after you asked

[18:32] Kuroo: once I remember i have weed it’s like I forget everything else haha

[18:32] Kuroo: if you ever need i can hook you up though  
  


Kei feels light-headed as reads the messages. He and Kuroo have been exchanging texts through the week; their correspondence has mostly consisted of Kuroo sending Kei memes or funny things that Bokuto has said - apparently the two have a weekly video chat session. Kei’s done his best to respond with things he hoped would be amusing in return, always after a healthy (okay, probably unhealthy) amount of deliberating different responses and sometimes Google searching references Kuroo makes so that Kei ensures he hasn’t missed the joke.

With these latest messages, Kei tries and fails to refrain from reading deeper meaning into each and every word. The underlying message of these texts was, to Kei, that Kuroo had been thinking of him, just like Kuroo so explicitly stated the other night. Kei’s head is dizzy at the idea of Kuroo thinking of him, and his whole body heats up what feels like several degrees. When he goes to respond, he realizes his fingers are trembling ever so slightly.

“Jesus christ, I need to get it together,” he mutters to himself, simultaneously eyeing his bedroom door to ensure it’s closed. The last thing he needs is Oikawa barging in (not that a closed door is necessarily a fool-proof method to keeping him out) and catching him in this flustered state.  
  


[18:35] Kei: Oh yeah, well it was no big deal. I prefer to just be drunk or just be high instead of being both anyway, so it all worked out

[18:35] Kei: And thanks for the offer - I may need to take you up on it sometime  
  


Kei hopes the messages are casual enough. His ability to hold conversations or act like a normal human being has completely abandoned him. He does feel a bit giddy at the thought of having another opportunity to see Kuroo by asking him to buy alcohol. It’s a strategy that will need to be used sparingly in order to avoid being annoying, but Kei figures he’ll be able to manage it.

But as it turns out, his overthinking is all for naught. His heart leaps at the message preview that pops up on his phone a few minutes later.  
  


[18:39] Kuroo: how about tonight?

[18:39] Kuroo: if you’re not busy already  
  


**20:01**

“Hope you don’t mind that it’s just the two of us,” Kuroo says as he sets the six pack that he has just purchased down on his kitchen counter. Kei met him at a convenience store by his apartment, where Kuroo asked him about his beer preferences and then had Kei wait outside while he went in and bought some. “Some of my friends are at a party but I just wasn’t feeling that vibe tonight.”

Kei fights the urge to laugh, mostly to himself, in response to Kuroo’s first comment. _I love that it’s just the two of us_ , he finds himself thinking. “No, no problem at all.” He shuffles his feet a bit and swallows. “What about Alisa?”

“Ah, she has to work tonight,” Kuroo says. He takes his keys out of his jean pocket and swivels them around until he finds the bottle opener connected to the chain. He deftly rips the cap from a bottle and hands it to Kei. He hopes Kuroo can’t see the way his arm is wobbling slightly as he takes it.

“So,” Kuroo claps his hands together. “Video games?”

Kei is nervous at first, as he’s never been particularly skilled at video games. His ability at most games is strictly average. Luckily, it turns out that Kuroo is actually hilariously bad at video games, a fact that is apparent from nearly the moment he boots up Mario Kart. Kei doubles over in laughter several times throughout their races, mostly in response to Kuroo repeatedly falling off the course, including one time that he used a Bullet Bill to get from 11th to 4th place, only to fall immediately after the effect wore off and land himself back at the end of the pack. Once it becomes apparent that Kuroo is a lost cause at Mario Kart, they switch to Super Smash Bros, but Kuroo fares no better. 

“Bokuto always makes fun of me for how bad I am at this,” Kuroo says after he loses a life by failing to stick the landing on a platform. He’s opted to play as Wario, because he claims to like how ugly his character design is. Kei plays as Link, his go-to character for Smash, and hopes that he doesn’t blush when Kuroo points out that he 'kind of looks like' Link. Just in case, Kei distracts from it by quipping that he looks more like Zelda, which makes Kuroo cackle.

After Kuroo has decided he’s done humiliating himself, they call it quits on Smash and leave the “select a character” screen up while they sip at their beers. Kuroo points to the screen after finishing his. “Alisa doesn’t play often but when she does she always picks Zero Suit Samus, because I told her once that she looks like her.”

“You think all your friends look like Smash characters,” Kei chuckles, trying to ignore the pang in his chest at the mention of Kuroo’s girlfriend.

“Guess so,” Kuroo leans so his back is against the couch cushions and closes his eyes contentedly for a moment. When he opens his eyes again, he looks right at Kei. “You know we’ve been together for almost four years?”

 _I wish I didn’t know that_ , Kei thinks. “Wow.”

“Yeah, we were 17 when we started dating. Just babies.” Kei doesn’t know what to say to this, so he just fiddles with the label of his empty beer bottle, which is peeling off at the edges. He wonders if they were together when Alisa was cheering on Nekoma at the Battle of the Garbage Dump, and figures that they must have been. After a moment, Kuroo goes on. “Sometimes I think we’re drifting apart though.”

Kei can’t help the way his head jerks up so that his eyes meet Kuroo’s. He swallows, and wonders if his throat has felt this dry the whole time or if it just started. “What makes you say that?”

Kuroo shrugs. “Just facts. And,” he pauses, as though he’s not sure if he should say what he’s about to. But he continues anyway. “I just don’t feel that same spark these days.”

There must be a gymnast living in his stomach, Kei thinks. That is the only way to explain the repetitive flipping motion in his belly. Kuroo has just told him something deeply personal and, frankly, rather sad, but he looks entirely nonplussed. Kei wonders if it’s a front that he’s putting on, or if his relationship truly is in such a declining state that Kuroo doesn’t even mourn the potential loss.

“How do you think she feels?” Kei manages.

“She’s too smart not to realize that _something_ is different. But she’s a bit...controlling, sometimes. She probably thinks that if she just doesn’t let go of the reins, then she’ll never lose her grip on us. It’s like she thinks she can just decide for me what I feel.”

Kei brings his feet up on the couch and tucks his knees under his chin. They sit there for a moment, holding each other’s gaze. Kei desperately wishes he had any indication of the thought process hidden behind Kuroo’s eyes. Many questions rattle around in his own head - _why did Kuroo tell me this? Do his friends here know? Does Bokuto know? What does he want me to say? To do?_ Finally, he offers, “well, only you can decide what you feel.”

The edges of Kuroo’s mouth curl up into a smile. “That’s what I think too, Tsukki.”

Kuroo’s voice is so gentle and his expression is so pure that Kei’s entire body heats up. His torso threatens to explode from the force with which his stomach is falling out of his butt. _God, I must look so obvious right now. Pathetic._

“Well,” Kuroo says, sitting up with his back straight. “I should stop being a buzzkill. Do you want another beer?”

“Oh, no, I’m okay,” says Kei. He suddenly feels exhausted. Whether it’s from the alcohol or from the emotional whiplash of the past several minutes, he’s not sure. “Actually, I think I should probably get going.”

“Oh,” Kuroo says, and Kei senses a trace of disappointment in his expression, but it quickly dissolves into something more pleasant. “Right. Well, hope I didn’t make your Friday night _too_ boring.”

“Nah,” Kei smiles. “This was great. Thanks for having me over, and for the beer.”

“Any time,” Kuroo says as he stands up.

Kei makes his way to the door, but turns on his heel when he’s halfway there. “By the way, I’m having a little thing at my apartment tomorrow night.” He scrunches his nose up. “Well I guess it’s not a little thing. My friends are forcing me to host a party. Sounds like it may not be your scene, but you’re welcome to come if you want. Your friends, too.”

Kuroo grins. “I’ll be there.”


	4. Drawn

**SATURDAY, 20:29**

“I tried calling you last night,” Yamaguchi says as he sets up the folding table they’ll be using for beer pong. He came over early to help Kei prepare for the party, since Oikawa is too busy deciding what to wear to be of any assistance.

Kei stands at the kitchen counter, dumping ice into a bucket that he didn’t even know they had in the apartment until Oikawa mentioned it. _"A_ _home is not a home without an ice bucket, Tsukki-chan!"_

“Oh yeah, I saw.”

Yamaguchi freezes as he sets the table upright on its legs. “And you didn’t think to respond?”

Kei sheepishly rubs at the back of his neck. “I wasn’t thinking. Sorry.”

“What were you up to anyway?”

“Nothing, just studying. I wasn’t looking at my phone and by the time I was done I just wanted to go to bed.” 

The frequency with which Kei has lied to his best friend has increased significantly lately, and it takes a small bite out of his conscience every time, but he can’t help himself. His confusing feelings about Kuroo and his own sexuality feel like a bomb that, if revealed to anyone, would explode immediately. And even though there’s nothing inherently suspicious about hanging out with Kuroo, Kei knows he’d give himself away, _especially_ to Yamaguchi, who once, in high school, was able to tell that Kei was upset with his grade on a test because of the way his voice sounded when he’d asked the teacher to go to the bathroom. _“It just wasn’t your normal ‘can I go to the bathroom’ voice,”_ Yamaguchi had shrugged when Kei asked how that was possible.

When Kei meets his friend’s eyes, they’re staring hard at him before his entire face softens slightly. In a quiet voice, he says, “you’ve been weird lately, Tsukki. And I don’t mean that in a mean way. Just… I’m worried about you.”

 _God_ , Kei thinks. _Yamaguchi is so fucking earnest. He’s like a golden retriever that I keep neglecting._ “I’m sorry,” Kei croaks out after a moment. “I’ve just been really tired. I’ve been staying up late working on assignments and my sleep schedule is fucked.”

Fatigue is a lame excuse but it’s the best Kei can manage at the moment, and it seems to placate Yamaguchi for the time being. Even if it doesn’t, they don’t have the chance to continue the conversation because Oikawa bursts out of his room wearing a sequin purple dress and a pair of platform heels.

“Freckles-chan!” Oikawa prances over to Yamaguchi and throws his arms around him.

“His name is Yamaguchi,” Kei says flatly.

Yamaguchi is stiff as a board in Oikawa’s embrace, not that Oikawa seems to mind. When he retrieves his arms, he strikes a pose. “How do I look?”

“Shiny,” Kei says at the same time that Yamaguchi squeaks out a “good!”

“Come on, neither of you are going to comment on how good my legs look?” Oikawa lifts one of his legs in the air and shakes it.

“Stop that before we see too much,” Kei chides, although he has to admit that Oikawa’s outfit does emphasize his impressive calf muscles. _I ought to get back to the gym_ , he thinks.

Oikawa sets his leg down and looks from Yamaguchi to Kei. “I hope you have some cute friends.”

Kei narrows his eyes. “What happened to your scary looking friend?”

“Masami-chan? Oh, that’s over,” Oikawa says. “He was too closeted to ever be truly relationship material anyway. Too bad, really, he was extremely talented, if you know what I mean.” As if his meaning wasn't clear enough, Oikawa wiggles his eyebrows after saying the last part.

“I wish I didn’t know what you mean,” Kei says. “Please don’t flirt with any of my friends.”

“I’ll try, but no promises,” Oikawa winks and swivels slightly so that his sequins glimmer. “Especially if they flirt with me first!”

**22:07**

The apartment isn’t crowded from wall-to-wall, but Kei has a sneaking suspicion that they’ve packed more drunken college students between the walls than the fire marshal would approve of. He’s never been a great judge of these things, but from what he can observe, the party is going well. The beer pong table is occupied whenever he glances its way, and in general everyone appears to be having a good time. When he scans the room for his friends, he sees that Kunimi has had a little too much to drink and has been arguing loudly with some girl about a television show they both watch. _And he wonders why he's_ _single_ , Kei thinks. Meanwhile, Suna has been suspiciously absent ever since Yachi and her friends - including Suzaki - showed up.

“I don’t mean to alarm you,” Yamaguchi says as he approaches Kei, who is sitting on the couch with Sakata next to him. One of his arms is stretched on the cushion behind her, while his other hand holds a half-empty beer. “But Oikawa is fucking with the aux cord as we speak.”

Like clockwork, the music abruptly changes from an up-tempo indie rock track to a synth-heavy Robyn song. When the vocals come in, he hears Oikawa’s screechy singing from somewhere in the apartment.

“Jesus christ,” Kei mutters. Yamaguchi gives him an apologetic smile before running off to get another beer, and Sakata giggles.

“He sure is something,” she says. “Oikawa.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Kei says. “He’s unique, but I’ll admit he’s not a bad guy. Just… a lot.”

“He rocks that dress better than I could, though.”

“I must respectfully disagree,” Kei says. He mostly meant it as an insult to Oikawa, but realizes after the words have escaped his lips that it is undeniably flirtatious. Sakata nestles in closer between his arm and his side.

Just then, the front door to the apartment opens and in walks Kuroo, wearing a black and gray bomber jacket and his usual skinny jeans. Kei finds himself thinking that he should get himself a bomber jacket. He wants to get up and greet Kuroo, but reconsiders when he sees the silvery blonde hair behind him.

When Kei had invited Kuroo and mentioned his friends were welcome too, he thought maybe Kuroo would bring the guys that were at his apartment that one night. He hadn’t really considered that he’d bring Alisa, especially not after what they talked about last night. But he can’t be reasonably upset with Kuroo for bringing his girlfriend. Instead, he decides to be upset with himself for getting his hopes up.

Sakata is saying something to Kei, but he’s not listening. He’s watching Kuroo slip off his shoes as Alisa greets Oikawa - it would appear they know each other somehow. Kuroo goes to stand next to her and puts his hand around her waist. Kei’s tongue feels heavy in his mouth as he watches the way Kuroo’s thumb moves up and down to gently stroke Alisa’s side. Kuroo’s eyes flicker over to where Kei is sitting, and tips his head back to greet him. Kei raises his hand with the beer slightly as a means of saying hello.

“...and that’s when I realized I was in the wrong classroom,” Sakata finishes her story. Kei looks at her, not knowing what to do with his face because he has no idea if the story was supposed to be funny, embarrassing, sad, or what. Sakata stares back at him inquisitively. “Did you hear what I -”

Kei cuts her off by pressing his lips to hers. It’s clumsy but effective; she brings her hand up to the back of his neck and kisses him back. He wishes he could open his eyes and turn to see if Kuroo is looking in his direction, but there’s no subtle way to do that. He just has to kiss Sakata for long enough to feel confident that Kuroo has time to catch a glimpse of it.

His tongue is swirling around in Sakata’s mouth when he feels movement on the other side of the couch. “Getting to know each other over here?”

He opens his eyes as they break apart and his stomach lurches when sees Kuroo sitting next to Sakata, a mischievous grin on his face.

Sakata looks from Kuroo to Kei, confusion on her face. Kei realizes she has no idea who Kuroo is. “Ah,” he says, using his index finger to wipe at his mouth. “Uh, Sakata, this is my friend Kuroo.” He specifically avoids reversing the introduction so he doesn’t have to figure out how to refer to Sakata. She’s not exactly his friend, but he certainly wouldn’t call them anything beyond that, either.

“Nice to meet you, Kuroo-san!” Sakata says. “Are you in Tsukishima-kun’s year?”

“Nah, third year,” Kuroo says. He looks up as Alisa approaches them on the couch.

“Didn’t know where you went!” Alisa smiles, though Kei can’t help but sense tension below the surface, though he wonders if he may just be imagining it because of what Kuroo told him. There’s not enough room on the couch for a fourth person so she sits on Kuroo’s lap and he wraps his arms around her middle.

“Hey, Alisa,” Tsukishima says, doing his best to keep his tone casual. She greets him back and he introduces Sakata to her.

“Your hair is so pretty,” Sakata says. She looks absolutely enraptured by Alisa, the way Kei has seen Yachi look when she sees a girl she describes as being “goals.” The two quickly launch into a conversation about Alisa’s hair, and then Sakata’s outfit, and then about how Alisa is half-Russian and how cool Sakata finds this fact.

“Okay, okay,” Kuroo says after a while of this. “Enough chit chat. Looks like the beer pong table is free now, shall we play?”

Kuroo is considerably better at beer pong than he is at video games, while Sakata is pretty pitiful at it - though she is quite drunk at this point. Kuroo and Alisa end up wiping the floor with Kei and Sakata, beating them easily in back-to-back matches. Whenever Alisa makes a successful throw, Kuroo plants a kiss on her lips. Kei decides to do this for Sakata, too, though he has considerably less opportunities to do so given her poor showing.

The night winds down after Oikawa decides he wants to go clubbing and encourages anyone who’s interested to come along. Alisa is immediately in, and Sakata is excited by the idea as well - likely because of the obvious friend crush she has developed on Alisa. She turns to Kei expectantly, but the thought of going clubbing is about as appealing to Kei as limp asparagus. Kunimi and Yamaguchi feel similarly, so they leave as Oikawa’s group gets ready.

“I really need to clean things up here,” Kei tells Sakata.

“Can’t you do that tomorrow?” Her face looks like that of a Disney character’s - wide-eyed and pouty.

“It’s gonna bother me knowing my apartment is a mess while I’m out,” Kei says. It’s not entirely a lie, as he really doesn’t like when he comes home drunk and is greeted by a disastrous state of affairs. Still, he knows that if he actually liked Sakata as more than a friend, he wouldn’t have bothered to consider how clean or not his apartment is at the moment.

Kuroo and Alisa appear by their sides. Alisa asks what the hold up is, and Kei explains.

“How about you two go along while I stick around and help Tsukishima clean?” Kuroo suggests, prompting the stomach-falling-out-of-butt feeling that Kei has grown accustomed to around Kuroo. “We’ll meet you out.”

Neither Sakata nor Alisa look particularly pleased with this arrangement, but agree to it nonetheless. Along with Oikawa and some of his friends, they exit the apartment when their cab arrives, leaving Kei and Kuroo alone - except for Ebihara, who scurries off to his room after having been bullied out of it by Oikawa.

Kuroo begins picking empty beer cans up off the floor and counters while Kei cleans off the beer pong table and folds it up.

When Kei begins wiping down the kitchen counter, Kuroo looks up at him from the floor, where he’s knelt down to pick up some cans. He flashes a toothy smile. “So you and Sakata, huh?”

Kei feels heat on his cheeks and hopes it’s not visible from where Kuroo stands. He shrugs as casually as he can. “It’s not really like that.”

“No?” Kuroo walks over to the counter and leans with his hip against it. “Seemed like you two were pretty cozy to me.”

“Honestly, I feel bad saying this but… she’s more into me than I am into her.” 

“You’re the one who kept kissing her all night,” Kuroo accuses with another smile.

Kei’s cheeks feel hot again, this time not from embarrassment, but annoyance. If Kuroo’s going to treat Kei as his relationship counselor only to bring his girlfriend to a party the next day, what business does he have making comments about Kei’s own love life? He sets his washcloth down on the counter and turns to face Kuroo. “So what if I was?”

Kuroo holds his hands up in front of him defensively. Despite his irritation, Kei finds himself wanting to place his hands against Kuroo’s, to see whose are bigger before intertwining their fingers together. He shakes himself from the thought. “Just observing,” Kuroo says.

Kei raises an eyebrow. “Are you normally so _observant_ about these things?”

Kuroo smirks and puts his hands in the pockets of his bomber as he steps in front of Kei, only a foot or so apart. Kei may be a sliver taller, but he’s hunching slightly, allowing for Kuroo’s eyes to be above his for the moment. He looks down at the floor, not trusting himself to hold Kuroo’s gaze.

“You know I’ve always been drawn to you, Tsukki,” Kuroo says quietly. Kei can feel Kuroo’s breath on his forehead. Between that and what Kuroo’s just said, Kei feels like he could melt directly into the tiles below. “And I guess I was looking so I could see what a happy relationship looks like,” Kuroo adds, as if he recognizes that his former statement was too heavy. Kei flicks his eyes up to see that Kuroo’s expression has morphed from smug to something more somber. 

“It’s really that bad with Alisa?” Kei asks doubtfully. “It didn’t seem like it.”

“That’s all for show,” Kuroo says with a small eye roll.

Kei doesn’t know how to respond to this so he lowers his head and stares at his feet. After a moment, he murmurs, “well, there’s really nothing between me and Sakata like that.”

“Okay,” Kuroo’s voice is soft. He’s even closer now, but Kei doesn’t remember him moving. Tentatively, Kei raises his head first, and then his eyes, to see that Kuroo’s face is inches from his. Kei’s vision feels fuzzy at the edges, and he swears that Kuroo is angling his head, bringing his face closer and closer. _Our lips are about to touch_ , Kei thinks. _Kuroo is about to kiss me_.

The door to Ebihara’s room jostles and both Kei and Kuroo snap their heads up in its direction as Ebihara walks out and to the bathroom. Kei slides backwards to put distance between himself and Kuroo, though Ebihara’s eyes are glued to the floor.

When his roommate disappears into the bathroom, Kei swallows and suddenly feels capable only of shallow breaths. He looks from the floor to the counter to the cabinets, anywhere but at Kuroo. A palpable tension lingers in the distance between them.

“I should probably catch up with them,” Kuroo says finally. “Are you going to stay here?”

Kei just nods, scared to hear what his voice will sound like if he speaks.

“Well, thanks for inviting me, Tsukki,” Kuroo says. “I’ll tell Sakata that you’re not feeling well, or something.”

“Okay,” Kei says, still not meeting his eyes. He wants to cringe at how small his voice sounds. “Thanks, Kuroo.”

Ebihara comes out of the bathroom and returns to his room just after Kuroo leaves, and Kei is grateful his roommate so pointedly avoids eye contact so that he cannot see the holes Kei’s eyes bore into him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, Ebihara. You exist entirely to be an inconvenience.
> 
> Apologies that this chapter is a bit short! Combining it with the chapter before or after it just didn't feel right.
> 
> BTW, if anyone wants to hang out with me on Twitter, I am on there as @wooplema :)


	5. Underwater

**SUNDAY, 11:28**

Kei’s cereal is soggy and lifeless, which is a good way to sum up how he feels, too. After Kuroo left the night before, Kei gave up on tidying the apartment and crawled into his bed, hoping to fall asleep quickly. But his body, rife with tension, rebelled, and he found himself tossing and turning until he finally turned his attention to one tangible thing he knew he could take care of: his dick.

It wasn’t a particularly eventful bout of jerking off, but after he was done, Kei felt so disgusted with himself that he nearly cried. It scared him, truthfully, how close the tears were to breaching his eyelids. He hasn’t cried in years, and crying over a boy seems so trivial compared to the last time he can remember being driven to tears, when his father was drunk and screaming and throwing things.

He was upset that he’d allowed himself to think of Kuroo while he did it, that at one point Kuroo’s name escaped his lips in a breath of pleasure. Kei cringes into his cereal thinking about it now. _I’m so fucking stupid_.

But he also knows that he did not imagine last night, though at the time he felt like he was in a dream. Kuroo’s lips were mere centimeters from his when Ebihara’s door opened. There is no reasonable excuse for two people to be so close to each other if kissing is not the endgame. Kei tries and fails to think of a scenario where he and Yamaguchi were in such a position. _Kuroo isn’t stupid_ , Kei tells himself. _He knows what he’s doing. And what he’s doing isn’t fair._

The more Kei thinks about it - how Kuroo brought up his relationship troubles in the same breath he used to tell Kei he’s always been drawn to him - the more irritated he gets. Whether or not Kuroo fully realizes the extent of what he’s doing to Kei, he’s applying pressure, and Kei has never been the type of person to let someone provoke him without reciprocating. He drops his spoon into his neglected cereal bowl and pulls out his phone.  
  


[11:32] Kei: Hey. Want to get coffee today?  
  


He doesn’t allow himself the opportunity to make edits or mull over the wording. He just sends the message and then puts his phone face down on the counter with a sense of finality. His leg bounces up and down as he waits for a reply. He closes his eyes and tries to focus on the sounds around him: the water running in the bathroom, Oikawa’s faint singing from within the shower, the humming of birds outside the window.

A few minutes later, his phone buzzes, and his hands jump for it despite himself.  
  


[11:36] Kuroo: Have plans with Alisa today. Sorry. Some other time!  
  


Kei frowns at the message - not only at its meaning, but its composition as well. Kuroo’s texts are usually in all lowercase; it doesn’t feel like a coincidence that he’s using proper grammar now. The mention of Alisa feels intentional too - a way of saying _whatever you think happened last night didn’t happen, because I have a girlfriend_.

He’s rinsing out his cereal bowl when his phone buzzes again, and he allows himself to get his hopes up again only for them to be dashed when he sees it’s just the group chat.  
  


 **Group Chat:** **_Boyzzzzzzz_ **

[11:47] Yamaguchi: sooo what are we doing for Kunimi’s birthday on Friday :D

[11:48] Suna: i’m busy that day

[11:48] Kunimi: -___-

[11:48] Suna: jokes. what do you want to do kunimi?

[11:49] Kunimi: hard drugs

[11:49] Kunimi: rock n roll

[11:49] Kunimi: the usual

[11:50] Yamaguchi: so get drunk and play board games at our apartment?

[11:51] Kunimi: sounds divine

[11:53] Suna: i’ll bring the good stuff  
  


Kei is grateful that the plans they’re making are lowkey. He’s sick of parties, of loud music and louder people, of grand expectations and disappointing outcomes. He hopes that by Friday he’ll be far enough removed from the events of the previous night to focus his attention on having an enjoyable time with his friends rather than go back and forth with himself about Kuroo.   
  


[11:56] Kei: Sounds good to me.

**MONDAY, 17:24**

At the library, Kei attempts to work on a physics assignment but is distracted by the crunching of ice cubes in Yamaguchi’s mouth. Yamaguchi has always had something of an oral fixation - Kei learned early on in their friendship never to lend him a pen, because it would be returned with bite marks. His nails, too, are constantly under assault. If they’re not bitten down to the quick, then they’re in Yamaguchi’s mouth until the edges are jagged. Chewing ice cubes is just one way that Yamaguchi keeps his mouth busy.

Kei sets his pencil down, unable to concentrate. “Didn’t you say your dentist told you that was bad for your teeth?”

In between chomps, Yamaguchi says, “yeah, but I don’t do it _that_ often.” Kei gives him a doubtful look. “Why, is it distracting you?”

“A little bit, but it’s fine,” Kei says. “I can’t really focus on these last few problems anyway.”

“Something the matter?” Yamaguchi says, his voice clearer now that he’s swallowed the latest chunks.

Immediately, an image of Kuroo flickers in Kei’s mind. “No,” he lies.

“Is everything okay with your family?” 

Kei stiffens, partially because he hates this topic of conversation, and also because he’s reminded that he used it as an excuse the other week. When he speaks, his voice is unnaturally pleasant. “Oh, yeah, everything’s fine.”

Yamaguchi looks unconvinced. “You know you can tell me if anything’s up, right? Like, even if you just want to vent.”

“I know,” Kei says, staring down at his assignment. “I just don’t want to talk about it right now.”

“Okay,” Yamaguchi says in a quiet voice. He stirs his cup of ice but mercifully does not pop another cube into his mouth for the time being. “So, I noticed Kuroo-san was at your place on Saturday but I never got the chance to say hi. Did you invite him?”

Kei shifts nervously in his seat, wondering if Yamaguchi has acquired some sort of sixth sense that gives him the ability to detect the most uncomfortable conversation topics. “Uh, yeah. I bumped into him again and told him to come if he wanted.”

“I can’t believe he’s dating Lev’s older sister,” Yamaguchi says. His observation gives Kei a small amount of comfort, if only because it proves that his friend doesn’t have the slightest idea about Kei’s infatuation with Kuroo. If he did, he wouldn’t so casually bring up Alisa; he’d know that it only pokes at the knife that Kei already feels stabbing at his heart, sinking it in deeper.

“It’s not that surprising,” Kei says, because he feels like he has to say something. “It seemed like she went to Nekoma’s games a lot.”

“And she’s super pretty,” Yamaguchi says, and pops another piece of ice into his mouth.

Kei wishes he’d stop poking the damn knife.

**THURSDAY, 10:12**

Kuroo has not texted him all week. Kei oscillates between feeling like 1) he’s done something wrong and should be embarrassed and 2) Kuroo is toying with him and Kei should be pissed. Every once in a while a third feeling comes into play, which involves wanting to hide under his bed and never leaving.

Then there’s Sakata, who does not seem discouraged by the fact that Kei never joined her after the party on Saturday. In Tuesday’s class, she was exceptionally flirty with Kei, and at one point rested her hand on his knee during the professor’s lecture. He can hardly be surprised; he was the one who initiated making out with her on Saturday and has continually given her reasons to think that the two of them could be together. He feels bad, but with Kuroo out of the picture for the moment, he doesn’t see too much harm in replying to her texts and letting her be handsy with him.

What he does not foresee, however, is her waltzing into the lecture hall on Thursday and telling him that she’s made plans for the two of them to hang out with Alisa and Kuroo the following night.

“You’ve been talking to Alisa?” is the first thing that leaves Kei’s mouth.

“Yes! She’s awesome,” Sakata says as she takes her seat next to him. 

“Isn’t she like, way older than us?”

“She’s 23,” Sakata shrugs. “What does it matter, anyway? Please say you’re free tomorrow!”

“It’s Kunimi’s birthday tomorrow,” Kei says. He’s glad to have a real excuse but feels a pang of regret that it’ll prevent him from seeing Kuroo, even if he knows it’s for the best.

Sakata frowns. “Can’t you hang out with us for an hour or so before you go see him?”

Kei should fight it. He knows he should. But all he ends up doing is nodding and saying, “I can probably make that work.”

Sakata beams, and during class her hand finds Kei’s knee once again.

**FRIDAY, 18:54**

It feels too early for Kei to be on his second beer of the night, but the repetitive motion of picking up the bottle, bringing it to his lips, and setting it back down on Alisa’s coffee table is the only thing he can think do - both to occupy his hands and to avoid succumbing to the weight of the tension that lingers in the air around him. Getting buzzed faster than he expected is a small price to pay if it means he feels less awkward.

Since he got to Alisa’s apartment just over an hour ago, he has been avoiding any kind of eye contact or direct communication with Kuroo, and he has a strong suspicion that Kuroo - who is also nursing his second beer - is doing the same. Alisa and Sakata have more or less dominated all conversation up to this point, for which Kei is grateful. He sits on Alisa’s couch with his arm around Sakata’s shoulders while she contentedly leans against his side. Kuroo and Alisa, meanwhile, are seated on two of the chairs that Alisa pulled over from the kitchen table. Kei wonders if they would be cuddling like this if they were on the couch.

Kei takes a swig of his beer and tries to focus more diligently on the conversation at hand. Sakata has been asking Alisa what it’s like now that she’s graduated.

“Sometimes I wish I was still in school,” Alisa says. “I like the structure of going to class, doing homework, studying, taking tests… it’s tedious, but predictable.”

“Real life isn’t predictable,” muses Kuroo against the rim of his beer bottle.

“That’s what I’m saying,” Alisa says sharply, a complete departure from the way she speaks to Sakata. She glances at Kuroo and the bottle in his hand before leaning over toward him and lowering her voice, though it’s still audible from where Kei sits. “Cool it with the beers, babe?”

Kei sees Kuroo blink slowly as his expression morphs into one of a provoked feline. When he speaks, there’s venom in his voice. “Stop babysitting me, _babe_?” He practically growls the last word.

Alisa purses her lips and shoots a quick glare at Kuroo before returning her attention to the couch. She paints on a forced smile. “Sakata-chan, do you want to see my room?”

Sakata nods eagerly and squeezes Kei’s knee before pushing herself off of the couch to walk toward the bedroom with Alisa. The door swings behind them and doesn’t come quite shut, but still effectively closes the girls off from the rest of the apartment.

As he’s done so many times tonight, Kei busies himself with his beer while Kuroo stares down the neck of his own bottle. After a moment, Kuroo’s head snaps to look up at Kei. With his voice low, he says, “let’s get out of here.”

“What?”

“I can’t spend another second in this fucking apartment.” In a flash, Kuroo is on his feet. He pats at the pockets of his bomber jacket, ensuring he has his belongings. He’s halfway to the door before turning his head back to Kei. “You coming?”

Kei glances toward the door to the bedroom and back to Kuroo. How can they just leave Alisa and Sakata? But Kuroo is asking Kei to come somewhere with him, _alone_ , and Kei’s curiosity and sheer desire gets the best of him. He grabs his phone from the coffee table and follows Kuroo out.

Once the door to the apartment is closed behind them, Kuroo and Kei quickly shuffle down the hallway and into the stairwell where they descend the four flights of stairs necessary to get outside. Kuroo starts laughing as he practically sprints along the sidewalk, Kei struggling to keep up behind him.

“Slow down!” Kei calls out ahead of him, starting to laugh himself. “What are we doing?”

Kuroo slows his pace and begins walking backward so he can face Kei. He reaches his arms out to the sky and declares, “going on an adventure, Tsukki!” 

Kei continues walking quickly to catch up. “What kind of adventure?”

“I feel like swimming.”

“ _Swimming?”_ Kei is incredulous. It’s not terribly cold out, but certainly not warm enough for a swim. Kei points this out to Kuroo.

“Tsukki, today you are going to learn that there is such a thing as an indoor pool.”

“I’m aware of indoor pools, thanks,” Kei says as he finally makes it to Kuroo’s side, breathing heavily and silently lamenting how out of shape he’s gotten. “I just don’t exactly have a membership to one.”

“Just follow me,” Kuroo says, not that he needs to. Kei has no interest in leaving Kuroo’s side.

Kei’s eyes narrow when he realizes they’re nearing campus, but he doesn’t say anything until the athletic building comes into view. “Uh, the athletic building is closed by now.”

“Don’t be a square, Tsukki,” Kuroo grins. He leads them to a window on the side of the building, the blinds of which are raised just enough that Kei can see that the window is connected to an office. Kuroo glances from left to right; they passed a few people on the way here but this part of campus is mostly empty now. Satisfied that no one is watching them, Kuroo yanks his keys from his pocket and uses them to pry around the underside of the window for a moment before seemingly arriving at the spot that he was looking for, and Kei’s jaw drops an inch when Kuroo successfully pushes the window up.

“How the fuck…”

“Being friends with Bokuto has taught me a lot of things, and how to gain entry to a locked building is one of them.” He lifts the window all the way and then stretches his arms out in front of him before diving into the office. Kei hears him thunk against the floor on the other side.

“Come on in!” Kuroo calls.

Kei curses to himself as he surveys his surroundings before following Kuroo inside. He doesn’t lunge forward quite like Kuroo, so his feet get caught on the window ledge. With his hands pressed on the floor in front of him, he can’t angle his body to get a good look at where he needs to move his feet to free them, so he struggles until Kuroo slides around him and gently guides one leg off the ledge and to the floor, then the other.

“Thanks,” Kei says, picking himself up off the floor as quickly as he can.

“Least I could do after forcing you to break in here with me,” Kuroo says as he closes the window from the inside.

“You didn’t _force_ me,” Kei mumbles. They walk out of the office into the hallway, which is illuminated only by the faint light still leaking in from outside. Kei hasn’t been in the athletic building enough to know exactly which way the pool is, so he follows Kuroo and trusts that he knows where he’s taking them.

The campus pool is Olympic-sized and pristine, so much so that Kei feels like they’d be defiling it if they were to jump in in their clothes - that said, he is certainly not about to skinnydip with Kuroo. But Kuroo seems to have no reservations related to the state of the pool. He peels off his bomber and lets it fall on the shiny white tiles behind him, then unlaces his sneakers and removes his socks. Kei removes his own outerwear and shoes, then looks over at Kuroo, who is unzipping his jeans.

“Jesus christ,” Kei utters.

“What? I don’t want to walk home in sopping wet jeans.”

Kei sighs and figures he has a point. As his hands trail over his own button and zipper, it occurs to him that he has the option to say no, to not jump into a pool and invite the millions awkward possibilities that could occur while swimming alone with a crush. But he doesn’t imagine Kuroo would hold back from going into the pool, and then what is Kei going to do? Just watch Kuroo swim?

 _Plus,_ Kei reminds himself, _there is absolutely no reason that Kuroo - the same Kuroo who nearly kissed you last week and has just ditched his girlfriend to bring you here - would get half-naked to go in a pool with you without having some kind of intention._

Kei can’t tell if this is logic coming from his rational brain or neanderthal brain, but either way, he shoves his jeans down his legs. He hopes and prays to whatever divine powers there may be that he won’t get a boner. He elects to keep his shirt on, while Kuroo has taken the button-down shirt beneath his bomber off and now wears just a thin white undershirt - which Kei notes clings nicely to his well-defined chest. His head spins thinking of what it will look like when it gets wet.

Once stripped down, Kuroo wastes no time; he bounds over to the diving boards and bounces on one a few times before hugging his knees to his chest and cannon-balling into the water, like an over-excited kid at a birthday party.

When he resurfaces, Kei laughs out loud at what the water has done to his hair. Thick black bangs are plastered against Kuroo’s forehead and over his eyes, before he pushes them back so that he can see.

“Stop laughing at me and get your ass in here!” Kuroo splashes water in Kei’s direction, but it doesn’t get enough distance to reach where he’s standing.

Kei sets his glasses on the stable edge of the diving board and prepares himself for a dive, then launches his body off the platform. Warm water envelops him, making him feel lighter than he has in weeks. His own curls flatten against his forehead as his head emerges above the water, though his hair’s not long enough to cover his eyes like Kuroo’s. He swims over to the middle of the pool where Kuroo is treading. His vision may be significantly impacted by his lack of glasses, but even so he can’t help but notice how nice Kuroo looks with his hair slicked back to reveal more of his face than usual. 

“Show off,” Kuroo says.

“What, for diving?”

“Yeah.”

“Some of us are just natural athletes.”

“Shut up,” Kuroo splashes water at Kei and successfully hits him this time. “Bet I can hold my breath underwater longer than you.”

“What are we, six?”

“Sounds like the words of someone who knows he’s going to lose.”

“Fine. Count of three?” 

“Count of three,” Kuroo agrees. He holds up three fingers and they both inhale as he silently counts them down with each lowered digit. When he bends the last one, they both submerge themselves several feet below the surface.

Immediately, Kei realizes that he’s far too full of air to keep himself underwater. He instinctively tries to push the water around him up so that he can stay submerged, but the effort is mostly futile. Curious to see how Kuroo is faring, he opens his eyes and, once he adjusts to the stinging feeling of the chlorinated water against his eyeballs, is stunned to see Kuroo just inches away from Kei’s face, just like they were in the kitchen after the party. But this time, Kuroo doesn’t recede; he cranes his neck and lets his lips brush lightly against Kei’s just before they resurface.

They break apart and inhale deeply, refilling their lungs.

“I think I win,” Kuroo says in a low voice, still so close that Kei can feel his breath on his wet face.

Kei’s chest heaves. “It - it was a tie,” he stammers.

“No,” Kuroo grins and brings his hand to the side of Kei’s face. He leans in again. “I win.”

Kei feels an arm snake behind his back as Kuroo bridges the sliver of a gap between their lips, pressing firmly against Kei’s mouth. Kei’s feet kick at the water to keep himself afloat as he kisses Kuroo back, bringing one hand to rest on Kuroo’s hips while the other runs through the back of his soaking wet hair. Kuroo’s tongue swipes against Kei’s lips and he parts them without a second thought. The sensation of Kuroo’s tongue in his mouth is hot and soft, and every inch of Kei’s skin feels like it’s aflame despite being mostly underwater. Their legs kick at each other by accident as they tread water, but it’s easy to ignore with Kuroo’s mouth on his, his thumb gently brushing against his cheek. Kei swears he can feel their heartbeats where their lips meet.

His body threatens to dissolve right there in Kuroo’s arms. He’s so giddy and vitalized and _relieved_ as every ounce of doubt he harbored flows out through his tingling pores and into the water around them. 

Minutes ago he questioned if he should get into the pool and now he never wants to leave it, to exit this moment.

It’s just as he’s thinking this that the door at the other side of the natatorium opens. Water splashes violently as Kei pushes himself off of Kuroo to snap his head in the direction of the sound. They gawk at the security guard walking in, demanding to know what the hell they think they’re doing.

There’s a chorus of “shit” and “fuck” and other curses as they rush to the edges of the pool and pull themselves out of the water. The guard is making his way closer, clearly ready to question them. Kei grabs his glasses from the diving board while Kuroo collects their discarded clothes into a bundle in his arms, and they share a quick glance at one another in which they silently agree that there’s no other option but to run.

Kuroo kicks Kei’s shoes over to him and he picks them up with one hand before they bolt around the other side of the pool and out the same door through which the security guard had just entered. They ignore his shouts to stop and sprint down the hallway then through the first set of doors they come across, two soaking wet bodies scurrying out into the cool night air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> twitter: [@wooplema](https://twitter.com/wooplema)
> 
> <3


	6. The Angel and the Devil

**SATURDAY, 10:04**

Kei is in deep shit. During the rendezvous at the swimming pool and the subsequent race away from the athletic building, his phone - and the influx of messages on it - went ignored. It wasn’t until he arrived home later that night, still damp and stinking of chlorine, that he bothered to check it, at which point he was assaulted by dozens of messages wondering where the hell he was - not just from Sakata, but from Yamaguchi, Kunimi, and Suna as well.

The excitement of sneaking out with Kuroo - and everything that had happened after - had pushed all thoughts of Kunimi’s birthday plans out of his mind, resulting in yet another instance of Kei going dark on his friends. If there was an award for shittiest friend of the year, Kei was certain he was a front-runner. When he saw the messages, all he could bring himself to do was text Yamaguchi to let him know he was alive before he silenced his notifications and took a shower.

Conflicting feelings of guilt and elation tore into him as he tried to fall asleep. He imagined himself as a cartoon character, with an angel propped on one shoulder to remind him of all the reasons he should feel bad about himself. Not only had he worried his friends and bailed on plans with them for the second time, he had also abandoned Sakata - the girl who was obviously keen on him - at an apartment belonging to Alisa - the girl whose boyfriend he proceeded to make out with in a swimming pool.

Of course, if there was an angel admonishing Kei on one shoulder, then on the other sat a devil, who doled out high fives and raucous applause. The devil was only interested in remembering certain parts of last night: black hair, shiny and wet and slicked back; soft lips pressed against his own while a calloused thumb stroked the side of his cheek; a white undershirt clinging to defined abs and chest muscles; a kiss goodnight after hurriedly throwing clothes back on some distance from the athletic building. _Kuroo_ , the devil sang in his ear. _Kuroo, Kuroo, Kuroo_.

For most of the night, the angel and devil fought each other, ignoring the exhausted Kei between them. He turned from side-to-side countless times, fruitlessly chasing sleep. One moment he would feel warm all over, remembering the feeling of Kuroo’s hand on his back. The next moment, he wanted to pack his bags and change his identity so that he’d never have to face Sakata or his friends again.

In the end, he managed maybe three measly hours of sleep in all, because the damn angel and devil kept rousing him awake to relive the highs and lows of the night all over again. The final time they woke him up, morning light was leaking in through the blinds, so Kei gave up on going back to sleep.

Now, still in bed, he checks his phone to see that he’s received some new messages since last night. But there’s only one that he’s interested in opening.  
  


[10:04] Kuroo: Coffee?

Half an hour later, they meet at a coffee shop near Kei’s apartment. Kuroo fishes some loose yen notes out of his pocket to pay for their drinks. Kei considers putting up a fight and insisting on paying for his own drink, but decides against it - mainly because he can imagine the barista serving them has seen her fair share of spats over who will pay for whose coffee before and he doesn’t want to be one of those people. Kuroo suggests that they go back to Kei’s place rather than drink at the shop, so they walk side by side as they sip at their beverages, a palpable silence between them until Kuroo decides to break it.

“I told Alisa about us.”

Kei is grateful that he isn’t in the midst of taking a sip when Kuroo says that, as he likely would have choked on his latte. “What did she say?” Kei asks, and then adds before Kuroo can respond, “actually, first, what did you tell her?”

“Like I said, about us.”

“That’s not specific.”

Kuroo heaves out a heavy sigh as they round the corner and approach Kei’s apartment building. “I told her that we went to the pool and that we kissed.”

Kei’s free hand is unsteady as he pulls his keys from his jean pocket. When he lets them into his apartment, he is relieved to see the living room empty - for now. They kick off their shoes and Kei rushes Kuroo into his room as fast as he can in case Oikawa chooses that moment to emerge.

“I’m trying not to make a comment about how you’re pushing me into your bedroom,” Kuroo says.

“And in saying that, you’ve failed,” Kei says, setting his half-empty coffee cup on his desk. Kuroo sits on the edge of the bed and stares down at his own cup. “Go on.”

“With what?”

“With what you told Alisa about!”

“I _told_ you what I told Alisa!”

Kei brings his hand to his temple and pinches the skin there. “Okay, fine. What did she say?”

“A lot of things,” Kuroo shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t think our relationship is long for this world.”

“You thought that before last night.”

“Well, I think it even more now.”

Kei’s stomach flips as he prepares himself to say what’s really weighing on his mind. “Did it mean anything to you?”

Kuroo looks up from his coffee and right at Kei. “You mean last night?”

Kei swallows hard and nods his head so slightly that he’s concerned Kuroo may not even see it. But it seems to do the job because Kuroo sets his cup on the bedside table and stands up before taking the few steps needed to bridge the gap between himself and Kei. Gently, he takes Kei’s hand in his own, his thumb brushing against the center of Kei’s palm. “Of course it did.”

His voice is low and soft and so _earnest_ that Kei’s legs threaten to liquefy. “This is all so fucked,” he mumbles, withdrawing his hand from Kuroo and rubbing it against his face.

“What makes you say that?”

“So many things,” Kei answers. “The situation with Alisa, mostly.”

“Forget about Alisa.”

“I can’t,” Kei snaps back. “You guys haven’t officially broken up, have you?”

Kuroo’s face scrunches up like he’s eaten something questionable. “If you saw the way we fought last night, you’d be more inclined to see why I don’t think it’s worth having this conversation.”

“Well, I wasn’t there,” Kei counters. “So I don’t know what I don’t know, and I really don’t like being in that position.”

“Tsukki,” Kuroo says, bringing both of his hands up to rest gently on Kei’s arms, just below his shoulders. “I know this is weird. But right now I’m here with you, and not with her, for a reason.”

Kei meets his gaze and the way that Kuroo’s looking at him effectively weakens his resolve. “Okay,” he murmurs, lowering his head so that his forehead presses against Kuroo’s shoulder. Kuroo’s arms wrap around Kei’s back and they stand like this for a moment, embracing in Kei’s bedroom.

Slumped against Kuroo, exhaustion catches up with Kei. He yawns as they break apart, trying and failing to shield it from Kuroo’s view with his hand.

Kuroo arches an eyebrow. “Tired?” 

“Very,” Kei admits. “I was hoping the coffee would be more effective.”

“We can get more.”

“Honestly, I think I just need to go back to sleep.”

“Ah,” Kuroo says, and Kei picks up on the hint of disappointment in his voice. “Well, I can get out of here so you can -”

“You don’t have to leave,” Kei says quietly.

“What am I gonna do, watch you while you nap? I’m not a creep.”

“Agree to disagree,” Kei says, and smirks at Kuroo’s expression of faux offense. “But, I don’t know. You could nap too.”

A grin stretches across Kuroo’s face as he takes a long, dramatic look at the bedroom. “I don’t see an extra bed around here, Tsukki.”

Kei rolls his eyes. _He’s going to make me say it_. “You can nap in my bed,” he mumbles.

“But then where will you sleep?” Kei can tell Kuroo is trying to keep his face straight, but he looks entirely too pleased with himself.

“I’m going to smack you,” Kei says. He pushes past Kuroo and flops onto his bed. “I’m going to nap. You can decide if you’d like to continue to play dumb or join me in this perfectly adequate bed.”

“Well, when you say it like that.” Kei hears footsteps and Kuroo emerges on the other side of the bed before sliding in under the duvet.

“Now I’m trying not to make a comment about how you’ve already gotten me into your bed,” Kuroo says.

“And once again, you’ve failed just by saying that.” 

Kuroo chuckles and brings his hand to the side of Kei’s face. Kei lets his eyes flutter closed under the feeling of Kuroo’s warm and gentle palm. The bed shifts and he feels Kuroo press a tender kiss to his forehead. “Sweet dreams, Tsukki.”

He’s fucked things up with his friends and Sakata, and Kuroo’s situation with Alisa is hardly resolved, but for now, with Kuroo lying next to him, Kei feels like he’s going to be okay.

**14:14**

When Kei’s eyes creak open, the first thing he’s aware of is breath on his neck. The second thing he notices is an arm draped around his side. His pulse picks up as his sleep-addled brain puts it all together: Kuroo is spooning him. Somehow, this melts his insides more than kissing in the pool did.

Keeping as still as he can, he cranes his neck to look at Kuroo behind him, only to be met with open eyes and a gentle smile.

“So it would seem you did end up watching me sleep,” Kei says as he stretches his arm out to retrieve his glasses from the bedside table.

“Did not,” Kuroo says. “I could just tell you were waking up.”

Kei hoists himself up to rest his back against the headboard, then glances at his phone to check the time. “Wow, I didn’t mean to nap that long.” He glances down at Kuroo, who remains sideways with his face against Kei’s spare pillow. “Did you sleep at all?”

“Not really.”

“So you just...lay there?”

Kuroo does his best to shrug in his position. “Guess so. I was on my phone a bit too.”

“Sorry if you were bored.”

“I wasn’t,” Kuroo says. He grabs at Kei’s sleeve and tugs lightly. “What are you sitting up for?”

“If I go horizontal again, I’ll fall back asleep.”

“Not if I don’t let you,” Kuroo shoots back with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

Kei clicks his tongue, but relents. His body sinks back down and he turns on his side, facing away from Kuroo. “I’d turn around, but I have morning breath.”

“Not really morning anymore,” Kuroo points out. “And I don’t care.” The bed shifts and he presses his lips against the back of Kei’s neck.

“You say that now, but -”

“I don’t care,” Kuroo repeats. He brings his hand to Kei’s chin and angles his face towards him. “Kiss me.”

The words fill Kei’s stomach with butterflies and his abdomen with heat. He lifts his face up to meet Kuroo’s lips and twists his body so that they face one another. Kuroo pushes Kei’s glasses up into his hair and then cradles his face with his hands, while Kei’s hands explore the wild black hair on top of Kuroo’s head. Now that it’s dry, it’s so soft, even softer than Kei imagined.

The kissing is lazy and subdued, unlike the night prior when it was spontaneous and hurried, as if making up for lost time. Whenever they break apart to inhale, Kuroo emits a quiet, contented sigh before diving back in for more, all while his thumbs rub gently against Kei’s cheeks. Idly, Kei thinks of how kissing Sakata - or any of the girls he’s been with, for that matter - never felt anything like this, not even close.

Kuroo’s mouth retreats and Kei notices that he’s giggling to himself. “What?”

“I was just thinking,” Kuroo says, combing through the front of Kei’s hair with his fingers. “If you told 17-year-old Tetsurou that in a few years’ time, he’d been in the bed of his high school crush, making out with him, he’d have a really hard time believing you.”

Kei’s eyes bulge. “High school crush?”

“Don’t tell me you never noticed.”

“I was oblivious in high school,” Kei says. “I guess I thought you just liked to piss people off.”

“Well, I did,” Kuroo says. He leans in so that his mouth is close to the shell of Kei’s ear and purrs, “still do.”

Kei swats at him playfully so that he brings his head back down on the pillow. “Idiot.”

“Ouch,” Kuroo feigns offense. “But seriously. You never thought it was strange that I was always making up reasons to talk to you, or having you practice with Bokuto and me?”

“Please refer to my previous statement about you liking to piss people off.”

“Man,” Kuroo rubs at the back of his head. “I always thought I was way too obvious. Kenma gave me so much shit for it. Even Bokuto picked up on it.”

“Really?”

“I mean, I _think_ so,” Kuroo says. “We never really outright talked about it, because I wasn’t really—well, I didn’t want to—” he pauses, taking the time to pick his words. “Let’s just say that you’re the reason I realized that I wasn’t exclusively attracted to women.”

“ _Me?”_ Kei sputters. He pictures himself as a 15-year-old and can only see a gangly, uncoordinated mess of limbs with a sour personality. He can’t imagine anyone looking at him and thinking, _wow, I want to question everything I know about myself for that_.

“Yes, _you_ ,” Kuroo flicks his forehead gently. “Don’t be modest, Tsukki. You were really cute. Still are.”

Kei wishes he could rip the increasingly pink skin off of his face. “Shut up.”

“You’re supposed to tell me that I’m really cute, too,” Kuroo whines.

“You’re really annoying.”

“I don’t think you mean that.”

“Unfortunately for me, I don’t,” Kei sighs dramatically, and they both laugh. Kei takes the opportunity to press closer to Kuroo and resume kissing him. This time, Kei parts his lips on a sigh and Kuroo’s tongue nudges against his own, but their movements remain delicate, with lewdness present only in the wet sounds their mouths make.

It’s Kei who pulls back first this time, reflecting on what Kuroo said about not being _exclusively_ attracted to women. “I think I’m gay,” he breathes into the sliver of space between them.

He expects Kuroo to snort, to make some comment like _you’re kissing a dude in your bed and you’re just now admitting that’s a possibility?_ But Kuroo’s expression simply softens, and Kei realizes that the only snide remarks to be had are the ones that come from inside his own head.

“How do you feel about that?” Kuroo asks after a beat.

Kei breathes out a laugh through his nose. “You sound like a therapist.” Kuroo offers a half-smile, but it’s clear he’s waiting for Kei to address the question before speaking again. So Kei takes a moment to think before responding, but his thoughts are jumbled and he doesn’t even really know his own stance. What he does know is that there’s one constant emotion that comes up whenever he thinks about his sexuality, so he decides that’s a good enough response, though his voice is small when he admits it. “It scares me.”

“Scares you?”

“Like, I don’t hate myself for it, or anything. And I don’t think my friends would have a problem with it, probably. But it’s just…” he trails off, but Kuroo finds his hand and squeezes it, urging him to continue. “It’s just strange to still be figuring things out about myself. And I always just took it for granted that I liked girls, because that’s what you’re supposed to do as a guy. So I never questioned it, and just decided that feeling nothing when I would, you know… _be_ _with_ girls was because I hadn’t found anyone I liked yet.”

Kuroo chews on his lip as he absorbs Kei’s words, his thumb now stroking against the center of Kei’s palm. It’s just on the verge of tickling him, but still somehow feels nice. Kuroo catches Kei’s eyes before speaking next. “But I take it you don’t feel ‘nothing’ now?”

There’s a vulnerability in his words, mirroring the way Kei felt when he asked Kuroo earlier if the previous night had meant anything to him. From Kei’s perspective, it was so obvious that he was invested in the relationship they were forming, but he now realizes that it’s entirely possible Kuroo feels just as unsure. Kei wiggles himself closer to Kuroo, so that their bodies are flush against each other, as he thinks about what he would want to hear if he were in Kuroo’s position. His hand flattens against the smooth skin of Kuroo’s cheek as he murmurs onto his lips, “I don’t feel anything close to ‘nothing’ now.”

A sharp inhale is the last thing he hears before Kuroo’s mouth is on his once again, his movements more forceful as he licks at Kei’s lips and then explores past them with his tongue. Their legs intertwine below the duvet as Kei fists his hands in Kuroo’s hair, while Kuroo’s lips move from Kei’s mouth to his cheek, his jaw, then his neck, where he sucks gently at the tender skin there. His hand drifts down Kei’s side and comes to a stop at his hip, where his shirt has shifted up a few inches to bare his pale skin; it tingles where Kuroo’s hand grips it.

A knock at the door sends a jolt up Kei’s spine and he lurches back, detangling their legs.

“Tsukki-chan!” Oikawa’s voice calls from the other side of the door. “Do you have a guest in there? Whose shoes are by the door?”

Kei grimaces and brings his palm to his forehead. He whispers an apology to Kuroo, who just shrugs. “I borrowed them, Oikawa. Can you leave me alone? I’m trying to nap.”

“That doesn’t explain all the talking I hear.” Kei can practically hear the satisfied smirk on his roommate’s lips.

“I hear you do a lot worse than talking,” Kei snaps. Kuroo’s mouth falls open in amusement, like he just heard some particularly juicy office gossip. “So can you _please_ leave me alone?”

Oikawa huffs a dramatic sigh. “Whatever you wish, Tsukki-chan.”

He allows himself to breathe a sigh of relief as Oikawa’s footsteps audibly recede. He turns to Kuroo. “Sorry about that.”

Kuroo waves away the apology. “No worries. I remember hearing your teammates talk about Oikawa from time to time. He’s definitely…an enigma.”

Kei snorts. “That’s one way to put it.”

“I’ve actually been curious about this,” Kuroo says. “Why do you live with him anyway? Like, why not with Yamaguchi?”

Kei bristles, though he doesn’t mean to. It’s a perfectly innocent question, one that he expected would come up at some point. Still, it doesn’t make it any easier for him to find the right words to answer it. “It’s a long story, but to make it short, I almost didn’t come back to school this year. And by the time I decided I was coming back, Yamaguchi had already signed a lease with our friend Kunimi, so I basically scrambled to find an affordable place to live near campus. And Kunimi went to high school with Oikawa, so he knew that the person who had this room before me had just moved out unexpectedly. So… yeah.”

Kuroo blinks, taking in the information Kei has chosen to share and likely working through all the places that Kei has left gaps open. Kei is reminded of when they first saw each other in the hallway of the arts building and how Kuroo had mentioned he took the previous year off of school, but never explained why. Though he doesn’t know the circumstances, he finds comfort in the fact that Kuroo likely can relate to the feeling of uncertainty that Kei may not be outright describing, but is definitely hinting at.

Kuroo runs his fingers through a piece of Kei’s hair and tucks it behind his ear. Kei knows there are questions he wants to ask, details he wants to unpack, but instead he simply says, “I’m glad you did come back.”

Kei smiles, feeling lighter now that the explanation is out of the way. He knows that, if they continue down this path, he’ll need to broach the topic of his family, but Kuroo’s response tells him that today doesn’t have to be the day he does that.

“Me, too.”

**16:46**

When Kuroo leaves to work on an assignment, Kei walks him out and tries not to frown at the sight of Oikawa reading a book on the living room couch. There is no way he can innocently explain away the fact that Kuroo was in his bedroom all afternoon, and he knows that Oikawa will most certainly want to have a conversation - if not multiple - about this.

Sure enough, almost immediately after he closes the door behind Kuroo, Oikawa leans forward to set his book on the coffee table and stares expectantly at Kei, his mouth pulled into a wide, closed-mouth smile.

“Just say whatever it is you want to say,” Kei says as he trudges over to the couch.

“I don’t have anything to _say_ , Tsukki-chan,” Oikawa says. “I have things to _ask_.”

“Okay, then ask them.” Kei purposely sits on the edge of the couch, leaving an empty cushion between them, but Oikawa pays this no mind and scoots closer to him anyway.

“Well, for one, I thought Kuroo was with Alisa.”

“That’s not a question,” Kei says. He’s not sure if his voice is agitated because it usually is when he talks to Oikawa, or because he brought up Alisa.

“Semantics,” Oikawa says with a wave of his hand, but Kei doesn’t budge. “Okay, fine. If Kuro-chan is with Alisa, why is he boinking you?”

“Oikawa!” Kei sputters. “We are not _boinking_ , jesus christ.”

“Making love, then?” Oikawa purrs.

“No.”

“Fucking?”

“God, you are insufferable,” Kei groans. “We’re not having sex ye-” He cuts himself off, but the damage is done.

“ _Yet?”_ Oikawa claps his hands together like a child who’s just been told they’re getting a pony. “Oh ho ho, Tsukki-chan. I just have so many things I want to know. Forget about Alisa for now, clearly Kuro-chan has. I didn’t know you were bi, or...gay?”

“I’m not gay,” Kei says without hesitation, and it surprises even him how quick he is to deny it when he basically confessed it to Kuroo only a few hours earlier. Oikawa raises an eyebrow. Kei murmurs, “well, maybe a little gay.”

Oikawa laughs, though not maliciously. “I’ve definitely had this exact conversation before, except I was in your position.”

It occurs to Kei that, underneath his grating veneer, Oikawa is, after all, a person - perhaps one who has more in common with Kei than he previously considered. Kei hugs his knees to his chest and asks, “what was it like for you, to realize you were gay?”

“Hmm,” Oikawa ponders. “Well, I didn’t really come to terms with it until my last year of high school. And even then, I didn’t come out until after graduating. Well, Iwa-chan knew before then, but that’s because I told him I liked him.”

Kei gapes slightly at Oikawa. He tries to remember who this Iwa-chan person is, though they came up against so many teams throughout his high school career that everyone blends together in his head. “Iwa? Was he your ace?”

“Ahh,” Oikawa closes his eyes, and Kei imagines that he’s picturing himself back in the Aoba Johsai gym. “Iwaizumi Hajime. My ace, my best friend, the biggest crush I’ve ever had and ever will have. I’d still drop everything if he decided he was interested in me.”

Kei frowns, and realizes he was actually rooting for Oikawa in this story. “So I take it he didn’t return your feelings?”

“Iwaizumi is, tragically, heterosexual,” Oikawa says, opening his eyes again. “But he was as thoughtful and understanding as anyone could be given the situation. He didn’t avoid me after that, or even act any different, really. We still talk most days, you know, even though he’s in California.”

“That’s... good.”

“It is,” Oikawa nods. “But it stung, badly. Still does, sometimes. Most of the time.” Oikawa stares down at his lap for a minute, looking the most vulnerable that Kei has ever seen him. When he speaks again, he meets Kei’s eyes. “But, Tsukishima, being gay is… well, it’s just that. It’s being gay. Accepting it and telling people about it doesn’t turn you into some kind of extraterrestrial or semen-guzzling monster.”

“I could have lived without that last part,” Kei says, squeezing his eyes shut. “But I think I get your point.” He opens his eyes when he feels Oikawa place a hand on his knee.

“I understand if you’re scared, or if you don’t want to talk about it, or if you _do_ want to talk about it, but not with me,” Oikawa says. “But I hope you know you always _can_ talk about it with me.”

Kei’s lips curl up into a reserved smile. “Thanks, Oikawa.” Just as he’s thinking that he may not have been giving Oikawa the credit he deserves as a roommate, Oikawa pulls Kei into an aggressively affectionate hug. “This is great,” Kei deadpans on Oikawa’s shoulder.

Oikawa pulls away but keeps his hands on Kei’s shoulders. “Tsukki-chan, you are going to learn to love my hugs.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it obvious that I love writing scenes between Tsukki and Oikawa? Because I do.
> 
> Twitter: [@wooplema](https://twitter.com/wooplema)


	7. 21st Century

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi hi! Just a brief note ahead of this next chapter: there is a conversation about mental illness in the first half of this chapter, and Tsukki says a few things that I would consider to be a little ignorant. I wanted to preface it by saying that his feelings are not a reflection of my own, and to promise that this story will further explore his relationship with mental health issues in what I hope is a satisfying way.

**TUESDAY, 17:18**

Kei’s phone sits on the library table in front of him, his thumb caught between his teeth as he stares down at his open chat window with Sakata. He vaguely wishes that Yamaguchi were with him, as he’d surely have a stick of gum or some ice for Kei to chew on instead of his own nails.

Earlier in the day, Kei had arrived to theater class before Sakata and took his usual seat. She didn’t arrive until just before the professor started lecturing, and it didn’t seem like an accident that she sat as far away from Kei as possible. He can hardly blame her for wanting nothing to do with him; this wasn’t the first time he had bailed on plans with her, and in this case, he had actually ditched her in the _middle of_ those plans. Not exactly upstanding behavior.

Kei is certainly no stranger to being the subject of someone’s ire. As the resident provocateur of the volleyball team back in high school, there was consistently at least one person who was moderate-to-severe levels of pissed off at him - most often, it was Kageyama. But as time went on and he matured, he found that he didn’t particularly enjoy knowing that there was always someone, somewhere, who wanted to punch him in the face. This was only further cemented during his second year, when a rival team’s vice captain actually _did_ punch him in the face after a match in retribution for some not-so-under-his-breath comments that Kei had made from across the net. It wasn’t an especially strong punch, but its mental impact made up for its lacking physical force.

In addition to this, he wasn’t used to having _so many_ people upset with him in such a concentrated amount of time. On Sunday, he went over to Kunimi and Yamaguchi’s apartment with a box of assorted cupcakes in hand, and tried his best to sincerely apologize for missing Kunimi’s birthday and causing them all to worry about him yet again. The excuse he offered for his absence was that he had lost his phone and ended up spending the night looking for it, during which he lost track of time. The expressions on their faces told him what he had already known - that it was a thin excuse - but after taking a few verbal punches at Kei, they left him alone. During lunch on Monday, things were mostly back to normal, but Kei still felt more tension than usual and opted out of making a few snarky comments where he otherwise might have.

The guilt from worrying and then lying to his friends weighs heavily on his shoulders, but he can’t adequately shake it off without coming clean about Kuroo. But just the thought of going down the _by the way, I’m gay_ rabbit hole sends a shiver down his spine. With Sakata, however, he can try to chip away at the mountain of guilt by doing what he knows is the right thing and apologizing to her. He realizes that the gesture is mostly self-serving at this point, but he decides to do it anyway under the rationale that, even if it doesn’t make anything better, it’s unlikely to make them worse.  
  


[17:18] Kei: Hey - I get if you don’t want to talk to me at the moment, or ever. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry, and to let you know that I know it was shitty to disappear like that on Friday. If you want nothing to do with me, I get it. I just wanted to let you know that I really am sorry.  
  


He reads the message back to himself a few times before sending it. It’s flimsy and not exceptionally meaningful, but it’s the best he can muster. His thumb presses against his phone with finality as he presses the send button, but his shoulders don’t feel any lighter in the immediate aftermath.

Even so, the timing works out, because just as he sets his phone down, he is pleasantly surprised to see Kuroo ascending the stairs - first his messy hair, then the rest of him. Every muscle in Kei’s face tries to pull his mouth into a dopey grin, but he forces himself to wear only a small, but warm, smile.

“Tsukki-chan!” Kuroo beams as he approaches. He sets his backpack down on the floor and sits in the chair opposite Kei.

Kei wrinkles his nose. “Please never call me that again.”

“Just Tsukki then. Better?”

“It’ll do,” Kei says. “I thought you were going to office hours tonight.”

“Not till 18:00, and my professor’s office is only a five minute walk from here,” Kuroo answers. He props his elbow up on the table and rests his cheek on it. “And I wanted to see you.”

Kei’s cheeks go pink at the statement; to distract from it, he picks up his long-empty can of coffee and pretends to take a sip. When he looks back at Kuroo, it looks like he wants to say something but can’t quite find the words. “What is it?”

“Hmm?”

“You seem,” Kei flaps his hand next to his head a few times, indicating that he’s trying to find the right word, “distraught, I guess.”

Kuroo offers a small sigh. “You’re too good at reading people.”

“I could say the same about you,” Kei counters.

Kuroo chews at his lip, then says, “I talked to Alisa this morning.” Kei’s stomach tightens. He straightens up and puffs his chest out a bit, as though preparing a barricade in anticipation of a painful blow. “We’ve decided to take a break.”

Kei blinks. “A break?”

Kuroo squeezes his eyes shut and pinches the bridge of his nose. “It was the least messy way to leave things for now. From here it can peter out into being a real breakup, without as much drama.”

Kei relaxes his posture as he thinks of what to say in response. Kuroo’s tone and expression don’t offer much insight as to his emotional state, and Kei doesn’t want to read this wrong. He recalls what Kuroo had asked him when Kei admitted he thought he was gay. “How do you feel about that?”

“I don’t really feel anything about it, to be honest,” Kuroo shrugs. “Maybe a little relieved.”

“How do you think Alisa feels?”

Kuroo looks sheepish. “I don’t think she’s particularly thrilled.”

“Ah.” Kei can’t help but feel a little bad for her.

“How do _you_ feel about it, Tsukki?”

Kei shifts uncomfortably in his seat and brings his thumb nail back to his mouth. He looks at his coffee can instead of Kuroo as he answers. “I mean, it’s not really my place to -”

“I’m not asking for an official statement, Tsukki,” Kuroo interrupts. “Just be honest.”

Kei’s chest and shoulders raise as he inhales. He takes a minute to truly consider his feelings about this development. Kuroo opting to end things with Alisa - no matter how gradually he may be doing it - means that there is a newly unoccupied space in Kuroo’s life: a hand without another to hold, an empty side of the bed. 

And fuck, Kei wants to fill that space. For weeks, he pined over Kuroo without any specific objective other than to have his feelings validated, to have them returned. But now, sitting across from a freshly single—or at least, half-single—Kuroo, he realizes that what he truly wants is what he’s already had a taste of. He wants to wake up to Kuroo’s breath tickling his neck and his arm draped across his waist, to spend lazy weekends together, to kiss just because they can.

What he wants in Kuroo Tetsurou is a boyfriend.

But the weight of this realization is too heavy to put into words. He sets his hand down on the table and offers a subdued response. “It makes me kind of happy.”

Kuroo nudges his own hand near Kei’s so that the tips of their middle fingers just barely touch. “Good.”

They’re distracted from the moment when Kei’s phone buzzes on the table. He glances over to see if Sakata has texted him. Instead, he’s met with a wave of nausea when he sees it’s Akiteru. His hand rips from where it sits next to Kuroo’s and he grabs his phone to read the messages.  
  


[17:32] Akiteru: Hi Kei. I know you’ll probably want to say no to this, but try to think about it before making a decision. I have to be in Tokyo for work in a few weeks and I was thinking that I could bring mom up and the three of us can have dinner together. It doesn’t have to be anything fancy or special. I just think it would be good for her to see you.

[17:32] Akiteru: Let me know what you think once you’ve thought about it.

[17:32] Akiteru: Love you.  
  


“Uh, Tsukki?” Kei looks up and sees Kuroo is waving his hand in front of his face, probably because Kei just spent a good thirty seconds staring with his mouth gaping at his phone screen. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost. Everything okay?”

Kei swallows as he sets his phone on the table, the screen facing down. “Uh, just family stuff.”

“Ah.” Kuroo folds his hands in front of him and looks down, as though to give Kei privacy. His response - or lack thereof - is a clear signal that Kei can move past this moment and Kuroo won’t pry. But his heart is beating fast and if he doesn’t do something to assuage the pressure on his chest, he feels like he’ll burst.

“My brother wants me to see my mom in a few weeks,” he croaks.

Kuroo knits his brows together. “And that’s… a bad thing?” His voice is free of judgment; instead, he simply seems like he’s trying to get the right read on the situation.

“It’s a complicated thing,” Kei says. “My mom is… unwell.”

“Is she sick?”

“Not physically,” Kei says. “It’s just that she’s a bit… delusional. And I haven’t talked to her in a while.”

“Is she in a facility or something?” Kuroo asks, then grimaces. “Sorry, if that was too -”

Kei cuts him off. “No, it’s fine. She’s at home in Miyagi, with my brother. He’s been living with her for a while now, taking care of her. I was supposed to stay with her, which is why I almost didn’t come back this year.”

“Oh,” Kuroo nods as he puts it all together. “What about your dad?”

Kei waves his hand dismissively. “He left when I was 14. He’s part of the reason she’s so fucked up.”

Across the table, Kuroo’s eyes widen. “Shit, Tsukki, I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

“It’s fine,” Kei says in a voice that makes it obvious that it isn’t fine. “Just… I don’t know if I can face my mom.” Kuroo looks worried, so Kei feels the need to clarify. “She’s not _evil_ or anything. She’s just,” he points his index finger at his head and circles it a few times, “crazy.”

“And that’s why you don’t talk to her?”

It’s an innocent question; Kei’s been goaded enough times by Kuroo to know that this is not the tone he uses for provocation. But it still grates at his conscience, reminding him of the angel on his shoulder that makes him feel constantly guilty for being a bad friend, a bad brother, a bad son.

“Like I said, it’s complicated,” Kei says. Kuroo raises his eyebrows like he’s not quite convinced. Immediately, Kei’s instinct is to snap at him just like he’s lashed out at his brother when they’ve discussed this same topic. _It’s not your place to judge me,_ he wants to say. But he shoves the impulse away and tells himself that he’s unfairly projecting his own bullshit onto Kuroo. Still, he feels the need to defend himself with evidence. “She’s legitimately nuts, Kuroo. Like, has her own personal conspiracy theories levels of crazy. She thinks the government is poisoning our water with mind-altering drugs. She once screamed at me that I was trying to kill her because I forgot to put the soy sauce back in the fridge.”

Kei expects Kuroo’s eyes to go wide again, but his expression remains neutral. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s fine,” Kei says again. He taps at the table with his fingers and stares at them as he talks. “Well, you know, as fine as it can be. I know it may seem weird not to talk to her, but I had to distance myself from her, from all of it. I just figured… it would be better for me not to have mental illness like that around me.”

When no response comes, Kei glances up from his fingers, and Kuroo’s eyes have narrowed ever so slightly in a way that Kei can’t read. He wonders if perhaps he’s shared too much, and reminds himself that this is why he avoids talking about his family.

“Anyway,” he sighs. “It’s just some stuff I have to deal with. So I’ll do that.”

Kuroo nods. “Yeah, well I hope it works out, Tsukki.”

“Me too.”

Kuroo glances at his phone and pushes his chair back. “I need to get going to office hours.”

“Right,” Kei says, trying to hide his disappointment at losing Kuroo’s company.

“I’ll text you,” Kuroo says as he stands up. He places a hand on Kei’s shoulder and gives it a light squeeze before walking back down the stairs. Kei glares at his phone, as if it’s to blame for all his problems.

**FRIDAY, 20:10**

“Gimme, gimme!”

Kei laughs along with Yamaguchi and Kunimi as they watch Suna try to shield his bong from Atsumu. The faux blond darts around Suna’s chair, bending down and popping up on the opposite side of Suna like a whack-a-mole. At this point, the objective seems to be less related to obtaining the drug paraphernalia and more about getting Suna to show an emotion beyond muted annoyance. Suna occasionally would refer to his high school team’s captain as a robot, but in Suna’s case, Kei thinks it takes one to know one.

As for Miya Atsumu, most of Kei’s interactions with him have taken place across a net. He was one of the most intimidating players to come up against, and Kei would watch his movements like a hawk to see what he was thinking, where he’d send the ball. But now, watching him jump around like a child as Suna holds a bong just out of his reach, he’s reminded of how even the most irritating volleyball players are just people.

 _Kuroo,_ he thinks. Kuroo was an aggravating player to go up against, for sure. Not even because of his goading remarks, but simply because of how damn persistent his blocks were, how ruthlessly he’d chase the ball in the air or on the ground. Kei wishes he could travel back in time to all the practice matches against Nekoma, and to the Battle of the Garbage Dump, if only to watch Kuroo’s movements and interactions with the younger version of Kei through a new lens.

He’s particularly desperate for any memories or moments he can get of Kuroo, because Kuroo has gone nearly radio silent on him since their meeting at the library. On Wednesday, he didn’t text Kei first, which was not only unusual but also directly contradicted Kuroo’s parting words on Tuesday, so Kei gave in that night and asked Kuroo how his day was. Kuroo’s response was terse, saying he had been busy and was heads down studying for an upcoming exam. Kei wanted to believe that was all it was, but insecurity nagged at him.

“Suna, ya bastard!” Atsumu cries, clutching dramatically at his side where Suna has just elbowed him. Suna only smiles smugly in response while Kunimi guffaws. “Why is it I only see this kid laugh when someone’s in pain,” Atsumu points accusingly at Kunimi, which only makes him laugh harder.

“Don’t you have something you ought to be doing,” Suna asks his roommate. “Like making out with a volleyball, or something?”

A puff of laughter escapes Kei, but he doesn’t catch the rest of the exchange due to his phone buzzing in his pocket. He eagerly pulls it out, expecting a message from Kuroo. His stomach drops when he sees it’s Sakata.  
  


[20:16] Sakata: Look, thanks for all the messages. I get that you feel bad. But you don’t have to be sorry about ditching me.  
  


Kei’s mouth falls open slightly at the message. He reads it several times over to make sure he’s understood the meaning correctly. As he prepares to shoot a text back, insisting that he does have to be sorry, a new message appears.  
  


[20:17] Sakata: What you SHOULD feel bad about is leading me on when you’re obviously not interested in women in the first place.  
  


A chill runs through his entire body as he reads and rereads each word. His fingers tremble and his phone nearly slips out of his grasp, but his eyes stay glued to where he sees an ellipsis that indicates Sakata is still typing.  
  


[20:17] Sakata: My advice? It’s the 21st century. Come out of the fucking closet.  
  


There is no ellipsis, no bubble warning of more scathing messages. Kei swallows hard and puts his phone face down on his lap. Vaguely, he is aware of the chatter around him, the barbs being passed between friends, but all he can truly make out is the deafening ringing inside his skull and the questions that bounce around inside it. _How did she know? Was he that obvious? Did Alisa tell Sakata?_ _Who else did Alisa tell? Who else did_ Sakata _tell?_ He feels so nauseous for a moment that he thinks he may truly vomit right there on Suna’s surprisingly classy accent chair.

“Tsukki?” He feels Yamaguchi’s hand on his upper arm. His friend’s voice is low, discreet. “You all right?”

Kei’s mouth is dry when he goes to respond, trying to maintain some ounce of composure. “I just… I thought I forgot to turn in an assignment for a minute. But I didn’t. All good.” He plasters the most ludicrously forced smile on his face and watches Yamaguchi’s expression turn from concern to doubt.

“Okay, Tsukki.” There is disappointment in his friend’s voice, but Kei doesn’t have the mental capacity to try and ameliorate things at the moment.

He picks up his phone again and, without giving himself the opportunity to think it through, navigates to his conversation with Kuroo.  
  


[20:21] Kei: Hey. Any chance you could meet up tonight?  
  


While he waits for a response, he taps his fingers against his knee while half-listening to a story that Atsumu is telling about a prank he and Osamu pulled on Suna back in high school. Suna keeps correcting him on certain details and, after a certain point, takes over the storytelling altogether. Kei’s phone buzzes.  
  


[20:24] Kuroo: Hey. I’m sorry about this but I think we may have moved too fast. It’s my fault. But I’ve had some time to think and talk to Alisa, and we agreed we’re going to try and make things work between us.

[20:24] Kuroo: Again, really sorry. My fault.  
  


If Kei felt sick before, he now feels like he could collapse. His mouth hangs open as he stares down at the screen, and he feels something an awful lot like tears form in his eyes, but he blinks them away as well as he can. He doesn’t know what to make of any of this, but what he does know is that he can’t spend another second in an apartment surrounded by people when all he wants to do is scream.

He stands up abruptly; whatever Suna is saying in that moment dies in his throat. “I’m gonna head out."

“Tsukki?” Yamaguchi looks up at him, his face coated in concern yet again. Everyone else simply stares at him, waiting for an explanation.

“I’m just not feeling one hundred percent all of a sudden,” he offers. It’s flimsy, so flimsy, and he knows no one is convinced. He can explain this away with a better lie later, but for now he just needs to leave. He turns and starts to walk toward the door.

“Probably having ‘family issues’ again,” he hears Kunimi mutter. 

The whole apartment seems to go completely silent as those words echo around it - or perhaps, they just echo in Kei’s head. He surprises even himself when he comes to a halt, inhales deeply, and then pivots on his heel to glare at Kunimi before he takes one step forward, then another, and then he’s charging at Kunimi, toward that _fucking asshole._ He’s not sure what he plans to do, but all he knows is that when he’s within reach, he stretches out his hand and snatches at Kunimi’s shirt collar. He thinks he can hear someone - perhaps Atsumu - saying, “whoa, whoa, whoa!” - but he pays them no mind.

Kunimi’s eyes widen, though he manages to look more angry than shocked or scared, which only pisses off Kei further. “What the fuck, man?” 

“Wanna say that a bit louder, dick?” Kei sneers. He stares down Kunimi while ignoring the growing chorus of protests coming from the others. His free hand is clenched into a tight fist that he honestly has no idea if he’ll end up using or not.

“Tsukki!” Yamaguchi is shouting by his side. “Tsukki, stop. Tsukk- _KEI!_ ” The apartment goes quiet once again as Kei loosens his hand around Kunimi’s shirt and lets his arm fall by his side, the sound of his given name on his best friend’s lips having been enough to shake him his rage-fueled trance.

He stands up straight so that he can look down at Kunimi. “Fuck you,” he spits at him. Then he turns back around to charge out the door of Suna’s apartment and down the flights of stairs that take him outside into the breezy night. As he walks away from the building’s entrance, he sees a trash can on the sidewalk and goes out of his way to slam his foot into it. It topples over from the impact and crashes to the ground with a bang. Banana peels and other trash scatter on the concrete next to it.

Breathing heavily, Kei hunches over to place his hands on his knees. Suddenly, his attention is drawn to a small figure that darts out from behind a bush a few feet away. He almost laughs when he sees it, but he fears that if he let any noise escape him, the dam behind his eyes would burst and he’d be reduced to a bawling mess. His conscience gets the best of him, and he bends over to pick up the garbage can and set it upright, though he leaves the discarded trash on the ground. He sets off in the direction of the bus stop, wondering where the black cat he had scared ran off to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *points at the angst tag up above* Yeah... we're in the valley of angst for a bit. It'll get better, but we have to get through some tough times first. But hey, what's a love story without a little angst? ;)


	8. Someone To Talk To

**SUNDAY, 17:54**

Kei has become well-acquainted with his bedroom ceiling, on account of all the time he’s spent staring at it recently. In fact, he supposes that his ceiling and the volleyball he keeps bouncing against it are the only friends he has at the moment.

In the wake of Kei’s eruption on Friday, he has barely communicated with anyone. Yamaguchi, who is usually endlessly persistent when it comes to Kei’s antics, has only texted once to say that he’ll be there to listen when Kei is ready to talk - but only if he’ll be honest about what’s going on with him. It’s a fair demand for Yamaguchi to make, but Kei has no idea when or how he’ll be prepared to unravel the emotions that led to him nearly assaulting one of his friends.

He throws the volleyball up against the ceiling for what feels like the millionth time that day, and it makes a light thunk before falling and returning to his hands. Before he can do it again, there’s a gentle knock at the door. “Tsukki-chan, there’s leftover curry if you’d like some.”

Kei doesn’t particularly want to talk to Oikawa, but the mention of food has his neglected stomach rumbling. He forces himself out of bed and opens the door to see his roommate still standing there. “Thanks,” he mumbles as he passes by him on the way to the kitchen, where the promised plate of curry waits for him. He grabs a clean spoon and takes a bite.

“Everything okay with you, Tsukki-chan?” Oikawa asks as he makes his way over to the counter.

“Fine,” Kei lies without looking at him. After a minute of shoveling food into his mouth, he glances up to see Oikawa looking antsy. “What?”

“Just wondering when dear Kuro-chan will be back over!”

Kei swallows his most recent bite of food and then sets his spoon down, sufficiently sated for now. That, and the mention of Kuroo effectively rids him of any appetite. “He won’t be back over.”

Oikawa’s jaw goes slack. Though the circumstances aren’t to Kei’s liking, he can’t help but be pleased that he managed to shock Oikawa speechless, even if only momentarily. “I...truly did not expect that to be the case.”

Kei huffs a sad little laugh. “Me neither.”

“I won’t lie and act like I don’t _really really really_ want to know what happened,” Oikawa says. “But I am going to guess you don’t want to talk about it.”

“I really don’t.”

“Darn. Would wine help?”

“Help me feel better, or help me talk to you?”

“I meant the former, but will gladly take the latter.”

Kei rolls his eyes, but there’s no malice in it. “In either case, the answer is probably no.”

Oikawa hums and shifts back and forth, rocking on the balls of his feet. It’s obvious that it’s taking everything in his power not to ask for more details.

Kei sighs, unable to stand Oikawa’s pitiful loitering any longer. “He’s back with Alisa.”

Oikawa furrows his brow. “They broke up?”

“He said they were on a break and then got back together with her like three days later.”

“That’s quite unfortunate.”

“Has anything like this ever happened to you?” Kei asks before he can stop himself. Oikawa looks puzzled, so Kei adds, “like, a guy who’s with someone else - a _woman_ \- but he’s messing around with you anyway.”

Oikawa offers an abashed half-smile. “I wish I could say no, but I’ve had my fair share of entangelements with men who claim to be straight, and say that having sex with other men is just a stress-reliever or something.”

“Do they ever...come around?”

“Well, none of them have ever left their lady friends to be with me, if that’s what you’re asking,” Oikawa responds, and Kei frowns. “But to be fair, I don’t think I ever had a connection with any of them the way you do with Kuroo.”

Kei folds his arms on the counter in front of him and rests his head face down on them before letting out an exasperated groan. He feels Oikawa’s hand pat him on the shoulder.

“I know that’s probably not exactly what you wanted to hear,” Oikawa says. “But speaking as someone who’s been in love with a man who will never return those feelings, I can promise you that it will get better with time.” Kei doesn’t stir, so Oikawa gives him a final pat. “This too shall pass, Tsukki-chan. This too shall pass.”

**TUESDAY, 12:16**

Difficult assignments and the lingering, persistent guilt that he’s feeling have joined forces to give Kei some of the worst nights of sleep he’s experienced in recent memory. He blames the resulting fatigue for why he finds himself back at the arts building in the afternoon, well after his theatre class has ended, in an effort to retrieve a textbook he accidentally left under his seat. Luckily, there aren’t any classes in that lecture hall in between the morning and afternoon classes, so he’s able to grab his textbook quickly and leave with plenty of time to buy a coffee before his appointment at the health center, which he’s scheduled in the hopes of acquiring some sleeping aids.

As he approaches the vending area, he stops short when he sees Kuroo standing in front of one of the machines, a handful of coins in the palm of his hand. At first he doesn’t notice Kei, too busy pinching each coin and inserting them into the machine, then selecting his beverage. Kei is about to abandon the idea of coffee altogether and quickly scurry away, but Kuroo glances over his shoulder and sees him before he has the chance.

“Tsukki, hey,” Kuroo says, his voice slightly strained. He bends down to grab his can from the receptacle and then steps out of the way. “You need the…?” he gestures to the vending machine with his thumb rather than finishing the sentence.

“Uh, yeah, thanks.” Kei shuffles over to the vending machine and tries to focus on the task at hand, as well as breathing normally, all while being hyper-aware of Kuroo’s presence next to him.

“How was your weekend?” Kuroo asks after a beat.

Kei inserts his card into the machine. “Fine.” He doesn’t bother to reciprocate the question as he selects his drink and snatches it up. He’s hardly interested in hearing any details of Kuroo’s weekend, especially if those details involve Alisa.

“Hey, so, uh -”

“I have to get going,” Kei says curtly. He brushes shoulders with Kuroo as he darts out of the vending area and down the hallway, his heart thumping in his ribcage all the while. When he exits the building, his chest feels like it’s burning, the way it does when he goes for a jog after months of neglecting exercise. He slumps against a column near the building’s entrance, and as his eyes sweep over the bustling campus, he finds himself strongly wishing he were alone so that he could curl up into a ball and hyperventilate, or perhaps scream out all of his frustration. But instead, he inhales deeply and tries to maintain some sort of composure as he pushes off the column and makes his way to the health center.

Despite the setback of having to go back to the arts building, Kei is still a few minutes early to his appointment when he checks in at the front desk. His leg bounces as he sits in the waiting area and tries not to replay his brief encounter with Kuroo over and over again in his head. The effort is futile, though, and he ends up so engrossed in thinking about it that he misses the first time a nurse calls his name to bring him back to be weighed and measured.

“So tall,” she muses, stepping on her tiptoes and stretching her arm up to get an accurate read of his height, which ends up being 195.3 centimeters. Immediately upon hearing it, he finds himself wondering what Kuroo’s reaction would be.

The nurse situates Kei in one of the exam rooms and assesses his vitals, then tells him that a doctor will be in to see him shortly, though it ends up being twenty minutes of idly sitting and scrolling through his phone before the doctor does come in. She introduces herself as Fukao and asks what he’s here for.

“I’ve been having a lot of trouble sleeping recently,” he says, looking down at his hands. “And it’s affecting my ability to concentrate, and study, and all that.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Fukao responds. “When you say you’ve had trouble sleeping, how do you mean?”

“I’ve been getting maybe, like, four hours of sleep at most. And the past few nights I’ve gotten even less, like maybe two or three.”

“How long have you been experiencing this?”

Kei takes a moment to consider. “Most of the semester, I guess.”

“But it’s gotten worse lately,” she says, and Kei nods. “Is there any particular reason you can think of for that?”

Part of Kei wants to say, _yeah, I know exactly why. After a lifetime of thinking I was straight, I realized that I’m gay after hopelessly crushing on a guy from my past who made out with me in a swimming pool and spent the next day with me in my bed, before deciding he wanted to stay with his girlfriend after all._ He’s tempted to laugh at what he imagines the look on her face would be. But he doesn’t say any of that. Instead, he shrugs and offers, “I’ve been stressed.”

She arches an eyebrow. “Stressed?”

Kei swallows. “Yeah… just, personal stuff.”

“Ah.” Fukao pushes her feet against the floor so that her chair slides over to her computer desk. She clacks away the keyboard for a moment. “In that case, I can refer you to one of our counselors here.”

Kei’s jaw goes slack. “Wh- what? _Counselor?_ ”

Fukao looks up from her computer and blinks at him. “Yes, so you can work through some of the stress and problems you’re experiencing.”

He clears his throat. “Fukao-sensei, I was hoping that I could get some medication or something. I don’t think I need a counselor.”

“There’s no shame in seeing a counselor, Tsukishima-kun,” she says, returning her hands to the keyboard.

“I don’t think there’s any shame in it, I just don’t want to,” he says with more force. “I really don't think I need one. I just want… I just need some -”

She stops typing and places her hands together, a patient but stern expression on her face when she meets his eyes. “Tsukishima-kun, if you are experiencing stress, it’s far better for you in the long-run to talk to someone about it, rather than trying to turn to pills.”

Kei bristles. _It’s not like I’m asking for illicit drugs, here_.

Fukao seems to pick up on his line of thinking. “I see a lot of students who think they can get through school - get through _life_ \- by ignoring relationships and feelings. They just work themselves into the ground and, when it wears on them, they turn to medication. There’s nothing _wrong_ with medication, Tsukishima-kun, but it’s also not always the answer to every problem. Often, the solution can be as simple as reaching out to someone and openly talking about how you feel.” 

Kei looks down again. He doesn’t necessarily disagree with her, but he’s determined to get out of the health center without being roped into making a counseling appointment. He’s silently weighing his options when Fukao leans toward him. “If you don’t want to see a counselor, then is there at least someone you do feel comfortable talking to?”

**_Messages with Yamaguchi Tadashi_ **

[13:39] Kei: I’m ready to talk.

**15:30**

Kunimi has an afternoon class on Tuesdays, so Yamaguchi has the apartment to himself when Kei comes over. While Yamaguchi prepares tea for them, Kei surveys the apartment and notices how neatly kept it is. His own apartment isn’t necessarily _dirty_ , but there is no one particularly dedicated to keeping it tidy, so the vacuum rarely finds its way out of the closet and dishes often go unwashed in the sink, if they make it there. Sometimes they are just left on the counter until they start to smell. Meanwhile, Yamaguchi was not even expecting Kei’s company and still comes back to a near-spotless apartment.

“I miss living with you,” Kei says when Yamaguchi places a cup in front of him.

“What makes you say that?” 

“I’m just remembering how nice and clean things always were in our place last year.”

Yamaguchi snorts. “So you miss me for my cleaning skills?”

“I now see how it may have sounded like that,” Kei says, and they both chuckle. Kei stares at the steam rising from his tea as he collects himself. “Um, so,” he glances up at Yamaguchi, in the hopes that seeing his friend’s face will help him find the right words. Yamaguchi offers a small smile as encouragement. “I know I’ve been weird lately. And I know _weird_ doesn’t even begin to describe it. I know my behavior has been shitty. I’ve been a bad friend. To everyone, but especially to you. I want to explain… but it’s hard. I’m scared.”

“Scared?” Yamaguchi echos. “Tsukki, there’s nothing you can say that would ever make me not want to be your friend.”

“Even if I murdered someone?”

“Tsukki.”

“Okay, okay, sorry.” Kei takes another sip of tea before continuing. “So, okay, the reason I’ve been weird lately...is because of someone I like.”

“Someone you like…” Yamaguchi repeats. “Romantically?”

“Yes,” Kei says.

“Sakata-chan?”

“No,” Kei shakes his head. “Guess.”

“Tsukki,” Yamaguchi grumbles. “We’ve been over this. I hate guessing.” Kei just folds his arms across his chest, as if to say _too bad, you’re going to guess or I’m not going to tell you_. Yamaguchi picks up on this and shoots him a look before taking a moment to think. “Um, Yachi?”

Kei can’t help but laugh. “It is not Yachi.”

“Ugh, I hate this.”

“I will give you a hint,” Kei says, and Yamaguchi raises an eyebrow in anticipation. Kei pushes the words out of his mouth before he can reconsider them. “It’s not a girl.”

He expects Yamaguchi to gasp, to drop his jaw to the floor, to go red across his freckled cheeks. But Yamaguchi only puts his finger to his lips and squints, as if he’s solving a math problem and just realized he's been using the wrong formula. “It’s not _me_ , right?”

In the end, Kei is the one whose face turns scarlet. “Yamaguchi, no!”

“Jesus, don’t act like that’s such an outrageous concept!” Yamaguchi chides. “What am I, some kinda gremlin?”

Kei finds himself giggling in response, and it turns into laughing so hard that he can’t catch his breath to respond. Tears form in the creases of his eyes from how hard he laughs, and he wipes them away as Yamaguchi clutches at his own stomach.

After he has the chance to compose himself, Kei speaks again. “You’re not a gremlin, Yamaguchi. You’re just not my type.”

“Thanks, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi says, laughter still present in his voice. “Jeez, you’d think I said you were crushing on bigfoot or something, the way your face looked.” He does an impression of Kei's face and they start laughing all over again, until Yamaguchi has an epiphany. “Wait a minute, is it...is it Kuroo-san?”

Kei's smile fades as he nods. “Yeah. How’d you know?”

“I tried to think about good-looking guys. And then realized you kinda started being different around the time you mentioned you ran into him.” Yamaguchi takes a sip of his tea as he formulates his next question. “Well, has anything happened with you two?”

Kei bites his lip and nods again. “Not anything like, _serious_ ,” Kei says, and hopes Yamaguchi understands his meaning. “But we’ve...we’ve kissed. A bunch. And we took a nap together.”

“That’s adorable, I think,” Yamaguchi says. “So I take it he’s not with Lev’s older sister anymore?”

Kei sets his elbows on the table and brings his face to his palms. “They’re still together.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah,” Kei says, his voice muffled against his hands. “Shit indeed.”

Kei gives Yamaguchi the whole story: how Kuroo said he and Alisa were having problems, how they ditched her and Sakata to go swimming, how they spent the next day together, how he said that he and Alisa were taking a break. Then he shows Yamaguchi the text from Kuroo about him getting back with Alisa.

“That’s fucked up,” Yamaguchi says, staring at the message. “Like, that’s so fucked up! Who does that?”

“Kuroo, apparently,” Kei sighs. “I saw him today, too. At the vending machines in the arts building. He tried to talk to me and I just got out of there as quickly as I could.”

“He needs to make up his mind,” Yamaguchi says, and Kei is surprised by the outrage in his voice. Yamaguchi must notice, because he goes on. “I don’t like that he’s treating you like that. I don’t like that anyone would treat you like that.”

Kei’s chest tightens, but it’s not from anger or sadness or tension. He can’t quite pinpoint the emotion, but when he looks at Yamaguchi’s incensed expression, and reflects on the conversation they’ve just had, all he can feel is gratitude that he’s somehow been blessed with the most incredible best friend that a sour asshole like himself could hope for.

“What are you looking like that for?” Yamaguchi asks.

“You’re just a really fucking good friend, Tadashi.”

 _Now_ Yamaguchi’s jaw drops, though only partially, and only for a fleeting moment before he brings his lips back together into something resembling a pout. “Tsukki, you’re gonna make me cry.”

Kei slips out of his chair and takes the few steps necessary to allow his arms to wrap around Yamaguchi, who rises to meet his embrace. “I’m so sorry,” Kei says into his shoulder. “I’ve been such a bad friend to you.”

“You haven’t,” Yamaguchi sniffles faintly. They pull out of their hug but Yamaguchi keeps his hands raised up on Kei’s shoulders. “But Tsukki, I just hate the thought that you were afraid that I’d react badly or something.”

Kei shakes his head as Yamaguchi drops his arms. “It’s not that. I just didn’t even know what to make of it myself. I kind of still don’t.”

Yamaguchi considers this. “It doesn’t have to _mean_ anything,” he offers. “You know, about you. You just like someone, that’s all. Don’t overthink it, Kei.”

“That’s my whole thing, though,” Kei mumbles.

“Well, we can work on that,” Yamaguchi smiles. “One thing at a time though.”

“Speaking of things I need to work on,” Kei says. “What do you think I should do about Kunimi?”

“Honestly, he’s not mad at you, even with everything that happened the other night. He’s just _really_ confused. He also kinda feels like a dick about the family comment, and I didn’t even tell him anything. He just realized it was an... inopportune thing to say.”

“Well, I can’t blame him for that,” Kei says. “I need to apologize to him. And Suna. And Atsumu, I guess?”

“Eh,” Yamaguchi shrugs in response to the last name. “With Kunimi and Suna though, like I said. No one’s mad. And it’s not my place to tell you what to do, but I don’t think it would be bad to tell them the whole story.”

“Yeah,” Kei says. “I think I owe them that much.”

**WEDNESDAY, 12:18**

Kei is feeling okay. Maybe even good, especially in comparison to how he’s felt for the better part of the past week. He actually felt somewhat well-rested when he woke up this morning, his biochemistry exam came back with a higher score than expected, and yesterday’s therapeutic conversation with Yamaguchi keeps playing on repeat in his head. He does catch himself thinking about Kuroo more frequently than he’d like, and it still causes an invisible knife in his stomach to twist every time, but the knife’s blade is getting duller every day. He’s in the best state of mind he can be in to do what he has to do now: face Kunimi and Suna.

He sees them sitting with Yamaguchi at their normal table in the cafe area and tries to remember how to walk normally as he makes his way over to join them. Yamaguchi notices him instantly and perks up, causing the others to glance in his direction. Their expressions don’t change at the sight of him, which Kei supposes is the best he can hope for.

He stops a few inches short of the only empty chair at the table. “Hey,” he says, mostly to the floor, but he forces himself to look up at all of them at the last second. “Uh, you guys mind if I…” he gestures to the chair.

“That depends,” Kunimi says. “Are you gonna hit me?” When Kei looks at his face, he expects to see Kunimi’s usual countenance, which can be best described as that of someone who has just smelled some sour milk. Instead, he almost gasps when he sees what appears to be a timid, slightly playful smile. To Kunimi’s right, Suna snorts.

Kei grins. “Not unless you give me a damn good reason."

“Fair enough,” Kunimi replies. “Sit, dumbass.”

“‘Dumbass?’ You sound like Kageyama,” Yamaguchi giggles, and there it is: Kunimi’s normal sour milk expression returns.

“So, uh,” Kei begins as he situates himself. “I know we’re not exactly a group that’s big on _feelings_ and stuff.”

“You don’t say,” Suna contributes.

Kei ignores him. “But I just want to say I’m sorry for what an asshole I’ve been recently. And, uh, if you want to know what’s been going on with me… I’ll tell you. But I know it doesn’t excuse how I’ve been. I just,” he pauses and looks to Yamaguchi, who gives him a reassuring smile. “I want to tell you guys. If you’re okay with it.”

Kunimi and Suna briefly look at each other and then nod in unison.

Now that Kei has permission to tell them, he finds his courage draining from his body. He almost wishes he could just have Yamaguchi tell the group, but he knows it has to come from him. He inhales and just lets the words slide out. “I’ve been kind of _involved_ with a guy lately.”

“Like, dating?” Kunimi asks immediately. 

“Not quite. But along those lines.”

“Do you _want_ it to be dating?” Suna inquires.

Kei looks down at the table. “Yes.”

“But it’s _not_ dating yet, and that’s the problem.”

“Yes.”

“And let me guess,” Suna continues. “You found out some bad news about this not-dating scenario while Atsumu was being a little shithead on Friday night.”

“Yes.”

The table is quiet for a minute as Kunimi and Suna make sense of this information. Finally, Kunimi pipes up. “That sucks. Sorry, dude.”

“Thanks. It’s okay though.” Kei’s not sure if he really means that or not, but he’s so relieved by the way his friends have responded that he’s inclined to believe that it’s true.

“Want us to beat him up for you?” Suna asks facetiously.

Kei huffs a laugh. “That’s okay.”

“Damn, I was hoping you’d say yes, so then you’d have to tell us who it is.”

“You do know there is such a thing as just asking things in a straightforward manner,” Kunimi says to Suna. Then he turns to Kei. “Like so. Tsukishima, who is it? If you don’t mind telling us.”

Kei shrugs. At this point he doesn’t see the harm in divulging all the details. “It’s Kuroo.”

“The Nekoma captain,” Yamaguchi adds.

“Oh yeah, the rooster looking guy. He showed up at that party at your place,” Kunimi recalls. “Doesn’t he have a girlfriend? The one that looks like a model?”

Kei squeezes his eyes shut. He didn’t need to hear Alisa described that way. “Yes.”

“Fuuuuck,” Kunimi says. “Okay, we need the full picture here. I have so many questions.”

“I don’t really wanna go into detail about it now,” Kei says. “But… if you guys are free on Friday night… we could drink about it at my place?”

“‘Drink about it,’” Kunimi snorts. “Sounds good.”

**THURSDAY, 13:02  
  
**

[13:02] Kuroo: please tell me why Ivanov-sensei is currently belting Send in the Clowns to us

[13:02] Kuroo: my entire class is so uncomfortable right now  
  


Kei frowns down at his phone. It’s the first text he’s received from Kuroo in nearly a week. His heart may have skipped a beat or two when he saw that Kuroo had texted him, but he hates the position he’s being put in. To Kei, the underlying message of these texts is _we’re friends again, and that’s all we are, whether you like it or not_. So he places his phone face down on the counter, though all he can think about as he eats his lunch is what he would say if he _were_ to respond.

His phone buzzes again soon after, its cadence indicating that someone is calling him. He stiffens when he sees the name Akiteru across his screen. With a swipe of his thumb, he accepts the call.

“Hi.”

“Kei?”

“Yes. Who else would it be?”

He hears a heavy sigh on the other end of the line. “I guess no one. Did you get my text?” Kei is about to respond but Akiteru doesn’t let him. “Scratch that. I know you got my text. Why haven’t you responded?”

Kei’s eyes widen at the tone his brother has taken. Even when Kei was his most petulant self as a child, Akiteru never spoke to him like this. _He must really be at his wit’s end_ , Kei thinks.

“I’ve been busy,” Kei says weakly. “I’m sorry.”

Another sigh, and when Akiteru speaks again his voice is softer. “It’s fine, Kei. I’m just -- you know I’m really trying here, right?”

“I know, Aki.”

“So, what do you think, then? About seeing Mom?”

Kei swallows. “I don’t know. I...I don’t think I can face her.”

“Kei, I say this with as much love as I can, but it’s not all about you.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Kei snaps.

“Calm down,” his brother orders, which onlys annoys Kei further. “I’m saying that I think it would be good for Mom to see you. She misses you.”

“I can’t sacrifice my own mental well-being because she misses me,” Kei says. It’s a line he’s repeated to himself in various iterations whenever the angel on his shoulder reminds him he’s a terrible son.

“What about me, then, Kei?” Akiteru sounds exasperated.

“How would me seeing Mom help you?” Kei implores. “She’s not going to suddenly get better because she sees me for one night.”

“No, but it might at least do _some_ good. And you said it yourself: it’s _one_ night. Why can’t you see her for just a few hours?”

“Because I-”

“Why can’t you just do it because I’m asking you?” Akiteru is yelling now, though it doesn’t seem to be out of anger. “Why can’t you just do it for me?

“I can’t have this conversation if you’re going to be like this,” Kei says quickly.

“Kei, please do not ha-” 

He cuts off Akiteru’s protests with a tap of his thumb against the red End Call button. When he glances back at his food, he finds that he’s lost his appetite, so he dumps the remainder of it into the bin before realizing that there was probably enough to warrant keeping it as leftovers. His phone starts buzzing again but he declines the call before turning his phone off altogether.

There is plenty of homework he could be doing, but he feels as though he’s done enough to earn a nap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! This chapter was difficult to write but covers a lot of necessary developments.
> 
> As a heads up, the next chapter is probably going to put the "M" rating of this fic to work. Do with that information what you will. ;)
> 
> Twitter: [wooplema](https://twitter.com/wooplema)


	9. Saturated

**FRIDAY, 20:20**

Kei expected to regret inviting his friends over to his apartment; he’s hosted too many social events at his place so far this semester, and he’s still having a difficult time focusing too hard on anything that isn’t Kuroo. But when Yamaguchi, Suna, and Kunimi show up with a few six packs of beer and several party-sized chip bags, Kei is thankful for the company and the distraction, and finds himself glad that he made the spontaneous suggestion the other day. Even better is the fact that they have the apartment to themselves - Oikawa is working and then “visiting a suitor” while Ebihara is away for the weekend to babysit his niece. Kei isn’t sure that he would trust Ebihara to take care of a child, personally, but he certainly doesn’t object to a weekend free from the awkward silences that happen whenever the two of them cross paths in the apartment.

The four of them sit at the kitchen table with a deck of cards scattered between them, though any attempts at playing card games have been long abandoned since Suna accidentally let slip that he had recently had Yachi’s friend Suzaki over to his apartment. Kunimi immediately pounced on the detail and began grilling him about what their relationship was, only to end up frustrated by Suna’s predictably noncommittal responses.

“Getting details from me is not going to make you any less of a virgin, Kunimi,” Suna quips.

“I am not a virgin!” Kunimi protests. He attempts to throw a playing card at Suna, but it barely travels through the air before falling to the table, earning him a few snorts. “It has been a while though.”

“Same,” Yamaguchi sighs dramatically and throws his head onto his arms, which are folded on the table in front of him.

“Maybe your apartment is cursed,” Kei suggests. “Like, you’re doomed to be stuck in a dry spell until you move out of it, or something.”

“Thanks, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi mumbles into his arms. “That’s very helpful.”

Kei shrugs playfully even though Yamaguchi can’t see him. On the table, Kei’s phone screen lights up with a text, and he gulps when he sees the name _Kuroo_. He never texted Kuroo back yesterday, but evidently that hasn’t deterred Kuroo from trying again. This time, his message consists of some meme related to weed that Kei doesn’t even bother to read fully. He blinks a few times before letting his phone fall to the table with a thud.

At the noise, Yamaguchi raises his head. “Tsukki?”

“Is that Kuroo?” Suna asks. Kei nods.

Yamaguchi straightens up and frowns. “He’s texting you now, even when he basically ghosted you?”

“He ghosted you?” Kunimi interjects, which reminds Kei that he never did catch Kunimi and Suna up on the rest of his story with Kuroo.

“Yes, he’s texting me. Yes, he kind of ghosted me. No, I don’t know what the fuck to do about it.”

Kunimi and Suna look at one another and then simultaneously turn to Yamaguchi, who glances at Kei as if to ask for permission. Kei nods.

“He told Tsukki that he and Alisa were going to take a break and then a few days later - when we were all at Suna’s place - he texted him to say that he was back with her and things moved too quickly with Tsukki.”

“Ouch,” Kunimi clutches at his chest as though physically pained.

“So then, what is he texting you?” Suna asks.

“I don’t know, like meme shit. Jokes about our professor.” In response to this, Suna wrinkles up his nose like he’s smelled something bad. “Should I text him back?” 

Kunimi says “maybe” at the same time that Suna and Yamaguchi say “no.”

“No, don’t listen to him,” Suna says, gesturing at Kunimi, who folds his arms and scowls in response. “You can’t let him play you like that.”

“Play me?”

“He’s setting the terms of your relationship right now,” Suna explains. “It’s like he’s got you on his hook, but he won’t reel you in.”

“But he keeps letting you _think_ he will,” Yamaguchi adds.

“Yeah, so what I’m saying is to text him back and tell him to cut that shit out,” Kunimi says, bringing his fist down on the table for effect.

Surprisingly, Suna seems to entertain this notion. He takes a sip of his beer before speaking again. “Okay, that’s not a bad idea, actually. Tell him to shit or get off the pot, basically.”

“Gross,” Kei says. “But I think I get what you mean.” He picks his phone up and starts typing as the others continue strategizing.

[20:37] Kei: Hi. I appreciate you texting. But if you aren’t serious about whatever this is then I don’t really want to keep this going.

[20:37] Kei: Text me when you’ve broken up with Alisa.

“I did it,” Kei says as he places his phone back on the table.

Kunimi gapes. “Shit, really? What’d you say?”

“To text me when he’s broken up with Alisa.” In response, all three of them utter _ooh_ sounds of various pitches, as if they’re in the live audience of a television show being taped.

Kei’s phone vibrates against the table and they all stare in anticipation as Kei attends to the incoming messages.

[20:39] Kuroo: can we talk?

[20:39] Kuroo: what are you doing right now?

Kei repeats the messages out loud.

Yamaguchi nips at his thumbnail. “Tell him to call you."

“ _No_ ,” Suna says, with more force in his voice than Kei has ever heard him use.

“Why not?” Kei and Yamaguchi ask in unison.

“Even if you _want_ to talk to him, you have to make it seem like you don’t.”

“That feels mean,” Kei whines, ignoring the fact that he sounds like a five-year-old.

“Well, so is whatever game he’s playing,” Suna shrugs. “He asked what you’re doing right now, so tell him something vague and short, like ‘hanging out at home.’”

“Should I say I’m with you guys?”

“No, because then he won’t call you if he thinks you’re with people.”

Kei accepts this as he taps at his keyboard and speaks out loud the few words that he’s typing.

[20:41] Kei: Hanging out at home.

“There. He’ll definitely call now,” Suna declares as Kei sets his phone down once more.

“You’re scarily sure about this, Suna,” Yamaguchi observes.

Suna shrugs. “People are easy to read.” His confidence appears to waver somewhat, however, as minutes pass and Kei’s phone continues to sit silently on the table. 

“He probably is somewhere that he can’t talk right now,” Yamaguchi offers as the mood noticeably dampens. 

Kunimi looks doubtful. “But he can send memes?” Suna shoots him a piercing look.

“It’s fine,” Kei waves his hand and forces as relaxed of a smile as he can produce onto his face. “It’s no big deal. Let’s talk about something else.”

Kunimi dives into a story about Yamaguchi sleepwalking the other night and is halfway through it when Kei notices Yamaguchi’s thumb is bleeding from his constant biting. He retrieves a bandage from the bathroom cabinet and is on his way back to the table when a loud _bzzt_ rings out through the apartment.

“Is that the buzzer?” Yamaguchi asks.

Kei hands Yamaguchi the bandage before heading over the buzzer. “I guess so. Maybe Oikawa’s plans fell through and he forgot his keys or something.”

“He’ll be a nightmare to deal with if that’s the case,” Kunimi mutters.

Kei finds the right button on the buzzer. “Hello?”

The voice on the other end is muffled, but instantly recognizable. “Tsukki?”

Kei’s jaw goes slack, his hand hovering uselessly in front of the button. He turns to the table where his friends sit. “It’s Kuroo.”

“It’s _Kuroo?”_ Kunimi repeats.

“Oh my god,” Yamaguchi breathes.

“I was right, in a way,” Suna points out. “We should probably get out of here then, huh?”

Kei jabs his finger at the button again. “One minute.”

Once he has ushered his friends out of his apartment and instructed them to use the back exit - where there is no communication system and therefore where they will avoid crossing paths with Kuroo - he buzzes Kuroo in and paces around the apartment while he waits. He takes a look at himself in the bathroom mirror and decides that he looks...fine. He’s in a standard outfit for him: a black wool sweater over a striped t-shirt and pair of worn blue jeans. He’s in the middle of aimlessly fussing with his hair when the knock at the door comes.

Even though he expected Kuroo to be on the other side of the door, his stomach still flips when he sees him standing there, looking as alluring as ever in his bomber jacket and skinny jeans. “Hi,” Kei mumbles.

“Hey, Tsukki,” Kuroo says gently, his hands shoved into his jean pockets. “I hope it’s okay that I’m here.”

Kei steps aside and lets Kuroo walk in. “It’s fine.”

“I, uh,” Kuroo starts. Kei leans back on the door and folds his arms against his chest, waiting for Kuroo to continue. “I wanted to let you know that I broke things off with Alisa. For good.”

Kei chews his bottom lip as he absorbs the words. It’s a statement that should have him elated, but instead he just feels frustrated. “It’s really hard for me to believe that.”

“I know,” Kuroo says. “I get why. But it’s for real this time.”

“Why wasn’t it real before?” Kei demands, and surprising even himself with how combative his tone is.

Kuroo rubs at the back of his neck. “It’s like I’ve told you, Alisa is controlling. She knows me really fucking well at this point. Too goddamn well. And she just kind of roped me into trying to work things out.”

Kei lowers his eyes and glues them to the floor. He can feel his shoulders slumping forward pitifully. “You went about this in a really shitty way.”

“Fuck, I know,” Kuroo admits, taking a step closer to Kei so that there’s only a few feet between them.

“I thought I did something wrong,” Kei says, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes stay trained on his feet. “I thought you realized you didn’t want… that you didn’t like…”

Kuroo takes another step and brings his hand to Kei’s cheek. His thumb is warm on Kei's skin. “I’m sorry I made you think that,” he says. “But I promise you that’s not the case. I came here because I like you, Tsukki. I like you so much.”

Kei’s knees, along with his resolve, threaten to crumble underneath him. He forces himself to look up at Kuroo, whose face is close enough that he could stretch his neck out to kiss Kei if he chose to. Instead, he holds Kei’s gaze, silently daring Kei to be the one to bridge the gap between them.

So he does. Bringing a shaky hand to Kuroo’s hip, Kei leans forward and presses their mouths together. Kuroo exhales a sigh of relief against Kei’s lips, and his whole body seems to soften even as he shifts his weight so that Kei’s back flattens against the door. It’s simultaneously gentle but urgent, loose lips parting and yielding, tongues sweeping against each other. Kuroo’s hand is sprawled against the side of Kei’s head, his thumb rubbing circles on Kei’s cheek while the rest of his fingers curl into the hairs at the nape of Kei’s neck. Kei’s own hands stray from Kuroo’s hips to rake through his unruly black hair; in doing so, Kei sacrifices balance and loses his footing, almost sinking to the ground. But Kuroo is there to catch him, grinning out an affectionate laugh as he wraps his arms behind Kei, slinking them underneath his shirt. Kei shivers at the feeling of calloused fingertips tracing against the skin of his back.

Kuroo’s mouth trails from Kei’s lips to his neck, and without thinking Kei responds by arching his back, causing his pelvis to brush against Kuroo’s. A gasp forces its way out of him at the resulting contact, which he might be embarrassed about if not for the way that Kuroo’s own breathing seems to stutter against Kei’s neck.

“My roommates aren’t here,” Kei murmurs, his mind clouded with arousal.

“Okay,” Kuroo exhales on Kei’s shoulder, a tentative chuckle in his voice.

“We should -” Kei starts, but instead of finishing with words he pushes gently against Kuroo so that he can grab his hand, leading them to his room. Even though they’re alone in the apartment, he shuts the door behind them and they pick up where they left off, with Kei’s back once again to the wall. This time, as their lips slot around one another, Kei dips both of his hands below Kuroo’s shirt and explores the bare skin there, gliding fingertips over the solid muscles of his stomach and chest. In response, Kuroo pulls back and for a fleeting moment, Kei fears he’s done something wrong until Kuroo practically rips his bomber off of himself, letting it fall to the floor as he tugs at the collar of his shirt, which he lifts off in one seamless motion.

The room feels at least ten degrees hotter as Kei rakes his eyes over Kuroo’s bare torso. He thinks he could be content to spend hours just running his hands along the definition of Kuroo’s abs and pectorals.

“Quit your gawking,” Kuroo teases, and before Kei can so much as blush in response, Kuroo’s mouth is back on his, his hands travelling downward to grab Kei’s sweater and t-shirt in a bundle. When Kuroo breaks the kiss, Kei raises his arms to let Kuroo remove them both.

“God,” Kuroo sighs at the sight of Kei shirtless before him. Kei can’t imagine he looks anywhere near as appealing as Kuroo - it’s apparent that only one of them has kept physical fitness as a priority since high school ended - but from the look on Kuroo’s face, he’s far from disappointed. He traces his fingers along the line of Kei’s collarbone before peppering kisses there, then sinks down to his knees. Kei’s heart hammers against his chest when he meets Kuroo’s eyes, which gaze up at him seductively. Kuroo’s hand hovers over the button to Kei’s jeans. “Is this okay?”

Kei remembers this exact moment taking place earlier in the semester, except it wasn’t Kuroo - it was Sakata, and all Kei had felt at that point was disinterest in kissing her, downright panicky when she tried to touch him. But now, looking down at Kuroo, he sees the disheveled black hair atop a bewitching expression and all Kei can feel is _want_ , a desire so strong that it threatens to split him open. Unable to form words, he bobs his head up and down in an eager nod, and Kuroo returns his attention to Kei’s jeans, deftly unbuttoning and unzipping. Kei shimmies his hips as Kuroo tucks his fingers into the belt loops and pulls down.

Kei suddenly has the urge to squeeze his eyes shut, embarrassed at having his erection - albeit clothed - in Kuroo’s face, but there’s another part of him that is so desperate, so hungry to see what Kuroo will do that he wills the flustered side of his brain to be quiet.

One of Kuroo’s hands grips at Kei’s leg while the other rests on his hip, long fingers lingering where skin meets the only remaining fabric on his body. Carefully, Kuroo dips his fingers beneath the waistband of Kei’s boxer briefs and slides them down. Kei’s cock springs out, humiliatingly hard, and Kuroo’s eyes are fixed to it as Kei steps out of his underwear.

“Wow,” Kuroo exhales, so close that Kei feels his breath tingling against his dick. It occurs to him that having another man’s erection in his face is probably as new for Kuroo as it would be for Kei, a thought which helps him relax even as his cheeks burn hot from the sight of Kuroo’s tongue poking out to wet his lips. He brings a cautious hand to wrap around Kei; the feeling of his palm on him sends electricity up Kei’s spine. A heavy sigh rips itself from his body.

Kuroo’s eyes flicker up to meet Kei’s. “Still okay?”

“Yes,” Kei chokes out. Kuroo’s eyes lower again and he inhales quickly before bringing his mouth to Kei’s cock, first kissing experimentally at the head before swiping his tongue against the underside of it. Kei emits a noise halfway between a moan and a squeal, and with this encouragement Kuroo parts his lips and wraps his mouth around Kei in earnest. Kei’s breath catches in his throat as he watches Kuroo’s cheeks, tinged pink, hollow out around Kei’s cock, how the veins in his neck bulge as he starts to bob up and down. Hazel eyes flit up to meet Kei’s gaze, black lashes batting alluringly.

“Fuck,” Kei whines, throwing his head back against the wall. Kei can hear the blood pumping in his ears, thankfully not loud enough to overwhelm the small, tantalizing _mmph_ noises Kuroo makes as he swallows around Kei’s length. Fingertips dig into Kei’s thigh before moving to his ass and gently kneading the flesh there. Kei’s knees shake as he stutters out Kuroo’s name and claws at the wall as though trying to find something he can hold onto to keep himself upright, but there’s nothing. He settles for planting his hands in Kuroo’s silky black hair, which serves to encourage him further. As Kuroo’s tongue glides against him, Kei vaguely feels as though he ought to be taking mental notes of what Kuroo’s doing, so he can be prepared to return the favor, but it’s hard to make sense of things like technique when it all just washes over him in waves of pure bliss.

He feels Kuroo’s mouth leave him and, when he looks down, sees him nuzzling his cheek against Kei’s cock, shiny with spit. “Just coming up for air,” Kuroo pants through a crooked half-smile, his lips pink and swollen.

“You don’t have to keep going if -”

“I _want_ to keep going,” Kuroo assures him. “Unless you don’t want me to?”

“I do want you to, but also,” Kei’s tongue feels heavy as he struggles to find the words. “I want to… I want us both…”

Understanding washes over Kuroo’s face and he gives one last, shudder-inducing lick from base-to-tip before he’s standing back up, his face level with Kei’s. Kei lurches forward and kisses Kuroo with all the passion he can muster, and attempts to lead them toward his bed without losing contact. When the back of Kuroo’s legs hit the bed, he folds himself into a sitting position and Kei brings his knees onto the mattress, straddling him. Kuroo rakes his hands over Kei’s thighs as he leans back, finally breaking their mouths apart. As Kei angles down to meet him, he notices the sly smile on Kuroo’s face. “What?”

“Just wondering if _now_ it’s okay for me to make a comment about you getting me into your bed.”

Maybe it’s because of how tense he felt over the course of the past week, or because of how much he’s trying not to think of how terrifyingly exposing it is to be intimate with someone he cares about this much, but when Kei laughs, it feels like he’s expelling every negative emotion from his body. When he inhales, affection fills him up in place of nerves.

“Idiot,” he giggles into a kiss. Suddenly aware of the contrast between his fully naked body and Kuroo’s half-dressed state, he hesitantly reaches his hand down and finds Kuroo’s clothed erection. The feeling of another dick against his hand is so foreign, but exhilarating, and only made better by the way Kuroo bucks his hips up at the touch. Kei tries to unbutton Kuroo’s jeans without pulling away from his lips, but ultimately his coordination fails him and he feels Kuroo’s fingers join his.

“Sorry, they’re tight,” Kuroo murmurs as he makes quick work of the button and zipper. Kei raises his hips so that Kuroo can shove the jeans off of himself, and his head goes blank when he sees that Kuroo has removed his underwear along with his pants. His eyes flick up to Kuroo’s bare form and he sucks in a breath at the sight of Kuroo’s hard cock leaking slightly against his abdomen. It’s a view that strips all moisture from Kei’s mouth, all feeling from his fingers. He doubts that anything could ever be so engrossing as this.

With his jeans successfully off of his legs, Kuroo grabs Kei’s hips and repositions them so that they both lie on their side, facing one another with their heads against the pillows. Once settled in this new position, Kei’s eyes are drawn back to Kuroo’s length like iron to a magnet. He reaches down to wrap his fingers around Kuroo’s cock and is rewarded with a shivering breath against his cheek. Kuroo responds in kind, and they lie there, pumping each other while their lips attempt to maintain contact, but it’s less like kissing and more panting into the other’s mouth. The muscles in Kei’s arm strain as he moves it back and forth, but he wills the discomfort away in favor of focusing entirely on Kuroo’s hitched breathing, the weight of his dick in Kei’s hand.

Kuroo rolls Kei onto his back and moves to hover over him, placing his free hand next to Kei’s head to hold himself up. He lowers his head next to Kei’s ear and gasps into it. “ _God_ , Tsukki.” The rasp of Kuroo’s voice has Kei increasing his pace; his strokes lack finesse as he chases friction, wanting so badly to make it feel as good for Kuroo as it feels for himself. “ _Fuck_. Fuck, I’m close, Kei.”

His name on Kuroo’s lips, in combination with the feeling of his dick sliding wetly between Kuroo’s fingers, sends a surge of electricity up Kei’s entire body. A coil unwinds deep in his belly and his thighs twitch.

“I’m -” he starts, but it’s the only word he can get out before he comes, hot and white on Kuroo’s fist. “Kuroo,” he gasps as he throws his head back on the pillow. It’s the name he felt so guilty for murmuring to himself on this same bed as he came some weeks back, the night that they nearly kissed in his kitchen. Then, Kei’s room had felt so dark and empty and pitiful around him. But now, back arching to press his chest into Kuroo’s as he rides out the last remnants of his orgasm, the room is saturated with color from wall-to-wall.

Kuroo’s grip on him loosens and Kei returns his attention to his own grasp on Kuroo's cock, desperate to see him crumble from his touch. Above him, Kuroo’s eyes are screwed shut and his hair is dampened slightly, black bangs plastered across his forehead, glowing with sweat. He looks so beautiful like this, Kei thinks, and he wants to find the words to let him know, but his head is foggy and he can focus on nothing but his grip on Kuroo’s cock. He lets the only word that he can think of pass through his lips: “Tetsurou.”

Kuroo groans loudly and Kei feels hot liquid spill onto his hand and stomach, but he doesn’t dare look away from Kuroo’s face; his eyes are still squeezed shut and his mouth hangs open loosely, as if his jaw could detach at any moment. Kuroo’s arms collapse underneath him and their soiled torsos press together. His clean hand caresses Kei’s cheek as he kisses him deeply, before crumpling at his side. A thought occurs to Kei: _I just made Kuroo Tetsurou come_.

Breathing heavily, he looks to Kuroo. “That was…”

“Fucking amazing,” Kuroo finishes, his voice muffled by the pillow. Kei realizes that, by being stomach-down on the bed, Kuroo is effectively smearing the combination of their cum all over the sheets, but he can’t bring himself to truly care. _There are a lot of things about being with a guy that are different from being with a girl_ , he thinks absently. Then he feels stupid for thinking so, because, well, of course it’s different.

It’s better. So much better.

Kuroo props himself up on one elbow. “I could listen to you say my name endlessly.”

It’s ridiculous that Kei feels a blush creeping onto his cheeks even now, when his dick has been in Kuroo’s mouth and his cum is currently sticking to his stomach and fingers, but redness dusts his cheeks anyway. “You like when I say ‘Kuroo?’” He smiles obstinately.

“So difficult,” Kuroo chides him with a playful push of his shoulder. He rolls over and angles his head at the mess in his wake. “Sorry about that.”

Kei snorts. “No need to be sorry. I’ll go get a towel.”

In the bathroom, Kei cleans himself off first and then runs a washcloth under the sink. Back in his room, Kuroo sits on the edge of the bed, still naked. Kei considers simply handing the cloth to Kuroo, but instead elects to kneel in front of him and dab it against his chest and stomach. Kuroo hums quietly as Kei attends to him.

“I’ve never done anything like that with a guy before,” Kuroo blurts. Kei looks up at him. “Sorry, that was a weird thing to say.”

Kei can’t help but smile. It’s so strange to see Kuroo like this - vulnerable and maybe even doubting himself. He gives Kuroo’s stomach one final wipe before responding, “I haven’t either.” Kei tosses the dirtied cloth into his laundry basket and moves to straddle Kuroo once again. His lips press against Kuroo’s forehead, which is now sticky with drying sweat. “I’m really glad you’re here,” Kei mumbles into Kuroo’s hairline.

Kuroo’s hand runs through Kei’s hair and then his fingers trail down his chest and back up until they come to cup his chin. He places a soft kiss on Kei’s mouth. “Me, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, there it is: my first time ever writing smut. Hope it was fun to read ;)
> 
> <3


	10. A Single Black Rose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Since the last chapter takes place over the course of like, one hour, I wanted to get this chapter out pretty quickly to keep the story moving, and to resolve some of the tension that still exists between Tsukki and Kuroo right now. Enjoy some breakfast chitchat, Oikawa bonding time, an appearance from our favorite pudding head, and some emotional conversations.
> 
> One warning - toward the end of this chapter, there is a discussion in which suicide is brought up.

**SATURDAY, 10:43**

Pale light sneaks in through the gaps in the blinds and stirs Kei from his sleep. The only sound in the room is the whir of the fan in the corner, which he turned on last night because Kuroo mentioned he has trouble sleeping without white noise.

 _Kuroo_. Kei stretches his arm out across the bed, hoping to feel the same body that he nuzzled against as he fell asleep last night. Instead, he feels only the cold fabric of the crumpled duvet. His eyes crank open, and though his vision may be blurry without his glasses, there’s no question about it: the other side of the bed is empty. Immediately, the part of Kei’s brain that thrives on making up worst-case scenarios gets to work.

_He left. He probably thinks last night is a mistake. He’s going to go back to Alisa, just like last time. He’ll keep doing this, seeking me out when he’s lonely or bored of her and treating me like some shameful mistress. Is there a word for male mistress?_

He doesn’t realize how hard he’s clutching at a balled up part of the blanket until the sound of laughter coming from somewhere in the apartment disrupts his spiraling. His fingers relax and he gets out of bed to turn off the fan so he can hear better. He thinks he can make out the sound of Oikawa talking, but he’s not sure. 

After dressing in a t-shirt and sweatpants, Kei leaves his room and follows the noise to the kitchen, where Kuroo stands in front of the stove, in the same clothes he wore the night before. Oikawa is sitting on the kitchen counter, his feet swinging as they make conversation. They turn their heads when Kei shuffles in.

“Good morning!” Kuroo greets him at the same time that Oikawa says, “Tsukki-chan!” Kuroo lets go of the handle of the frying pan he was attending to and beelines for Kei before placing a wet kiss on his mouth. In a flash, he pulls back and returns to the stove. Kei glances at Oikawa, who gives him a wide smile, before narrowing his eyes at Kuroo’s back.

“You’re cooking,” Kei says.

Kuroo flips the contents of the pan, which appear to be egg-based. “Excellent observation. I hope you like omelettes.”

Kei steps closer to get a better look at the food, and sees what appears to be spinach and ham infused into the eggs. “Did you go to the store?”

“Yup,” Kuroo says, like it’s nothing.

“To make us breakfast?”

“Generally that is one reason people go to the store. Try this,” Kuroo holds up a wooden spoon with some omelette on it and places it just outside Kei’s mouth. He obliges and swallows the contents - it tastes really fucking good.

“I can get used to this, Kuro-chan,” Oikawa muses as he picks up a mug of tea and clutches it between his hands. “I do hope you’ll make it a habit to be here in the mornings.” He gives Kei an exaggerated wink.

“I didn’t think you’d be here, Oikawa,” Kei comments before Kuroo can react to his roommate’s latest statement. “Did your date go okay?”

“Thank you for your interest, Tsukki-chan,” Oikawa says after swallowing a sip of tea. “My date was lovely, actually. But he had to be up early this morning so I came back and saw this handsome face in the kitchen.” He tilts his head in Kuroo’s direction, as if there could be any confusion as to who the ‘handsome face’ in question is.

Kuroo begins to divide the contents of the frying pan onto plates and hands one to Oikawa, who hops off the counter. “Thank you for the meal, Kuro-chan! I’ll leave you two kids to it.”

“You’re both the same age,” Kei mutters as Oikawa takes his breakfast to his room. Kuroo hands him a plate and they both start eating over the counter.

“So, you didn’t tell me if you like omelettes or not, but you didn’t totally recoil when you tried it so I’m assuming it’s okay,” Kuroo says.

“It’s delicious,” Kei says, and takes a bite to make the point. When he swallows, he adds, “you didn’t have to cook.”

“I wanted to,” Kuroo shrugs.

Kei stares at his plate for a minute, contemplating if he should say what’s on his mind or not. _The longer I let this fester, the worse it will get_. “When I woke up, I thought you had left.”

A look of alarm replaces Kuroo’s pleasant expression. He sets his plate on the counter and steps in front of Kei. When he speaks, his voice is soft. “Hey, I didn’t leave.” He brings his hand to Kei’s cheek and brushes it with his thumb. “I’m here.”

Kei leans into his touch like a cat being stroked; the feeling of Kuroo’s fingers on his face is instantly calming. Kuroo’s other hand finds the small of Kei’s back and he kisses him, slow and lazy and perfect.

When they break apart, Kuroo’s expression is solemn. “I know I really fucked things up.” He leans forward and rests his forehead on Kei’s shoulder. “I’m not going to do that again. I promise.”

Absently, Kei runs his fingers through the top of Kuroo’s hair. “So things with Alisa really are done, then.”

“She’s completely out of the picture,” Kuroo pledges. He angles his head to place a gentle kiss on Kei’s cheek, then brings his mouth to the shell of Kei’s ear. “I’m all yours.”

Kei can feel his face redden. “Stop trying to seduce me.”

With a grin, Kuroo pulls back and returns to his plate. “Why, is it working?”

Kei rolls his eyes. “I think last night is all the answer you need.”

“So that’s a yes,” Kuroo pumps his fist triumphantly, earning another eye roll from Kei. He takes a bite of his food and, after swallowing, asks, “anything you want to do today?”

Kei shrugs. “Is it completely lame to just say hang out with you?”

“It’s not lame.” Kuroo’s genuine smile does that thing where it turns into something more devious. He reaches to take Kei’s hands in his and lets them swing in the space between the two. “We should go on a date.”

Kei’s eyes bulge. “A _date?”_

Kuroo throws his head back and cackles. “What are you, an alien?” When he speaks again, his voice is pitched higher and sounds more nasally. “‘My kind is unfamiliar with this strange human custom known as a date.’”

“Your alien voice leaves a lot to be desired,” Kei says.

“Hey, I thought it was pretty good!” Kuroo feigns offense, then brings one of Kei’s hands up to his lips and kisses the back of it gently. “It doesn’t have to be anything special. The date.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“How do you feel about surprises?”

“Mostly negative.”

Kuroo claps his hands together. “Excellent, then it’ll be a surprise.”

Kei lets out an exasperated sigh, but it’s mostly - if not entirely - just for show. While he wasn’t lying about his feelings toward surprises, if he’s going to allow anyone to treat him to one, it will be Kuroo.

“I should probably go home so I can shower and change,” Kuroo says. “But I’ll text you where and when to meet me. Does that sound good?”

It’s almost pitiful how Kei’s heart sinks even at the thought of being apart from Kuroo for a few hours, especially when they’re literally making plans to hang out later. Part of him wants to tell Kuroo he can use the shower here and borrow Kei’s clothes, but he knows how clingy and desperate that would sound. Plus, if the tables were turned and he had slept at Kuroo’s apartment, he’d probably be itching to get back to a more familiar space himself. So he nods, and kisses Kuroo fiercely. “I’ll see you later then,” he mumbles against Kuroo’s lips.

**15:51**

After taking a shower himself, Kei paces around his room, trying not to fixate on when Kuroo will text him. When this proves not to be sufficiently distracting, he plunks himself down on the couch and flicks through Netflix until he finds a documentary about some Italian chef. This, too, fails to take his mind off of waiting for a text from Kuroo, but it does succeed in making him hungry for pasta. When he does get a text from Kuroo, he is glad no one is around to see him lurch for his phone.  
  


[15:51] Kuroo: what’s your favorite color?  
  


He furrows his brow down at his phone screen. He can’t remember the last time he has been asked what his favorite color is, nor does he have a ready answer. He tries to imagine what Kuroo could be planning to use this information for - _is he buying me a sweater or something?_ He decides clothing is the most likely reason for the question, and goes with the color that he wears most often.  
  


[15:53] Kei: Black, I guess?  
  


A second after he presses ‘send’ it hits him that he’s just chosen the color that is represented by Kuroo’s family name. He hopes that Kuroo doesn’t pick up on this, or if he does, that he doesn’t see it as Kei trying way too hard.  
  


[15:54] Kuroo: you just had to pick the most difficult color, didn’t you?

[15:54] Kuroo: or you’re saying that because it’s the color of crows… hmm… i’m sensing some sentimentality, Tsukki

[15:55] Kei: Yes, black is notably only the color of crows and nothing else

[15:55] Kei: What do you mean it’s a difficult color?

[15:56] Kuroo: all shall be made clear in due time

[15:56] Kuroo: meet me at the train station at 17:00?  
  


 _The train station_? Kei suddenly wishes he’d been a bit more adamant about his dislike of surprises. It had not crossed Kei’s mind that Kuroo may get it in his head to take them somewhere not accessible by foot or bus.  
  


[15:57] Kei: You’re not kidnapping me, are you?

[15:58] Kuroo: of course not!

[15:58] Kuroo: it’s only kidnapping if you’re an unwilling participant

[15:58] Kuroo: ;)

  
“Texting Kuro-chan, are you?” Oikawa’s voice distracts Kei from staring hard at his phone, willing it to reveal something about where Kuroo is taking him. He was so thoroughly engrossed by the texts that he hadn’t noticed Oikawa’s door open. In response to the question, Kei only nods. “I continue to have _so_ many questions, Tsukki-chan.”

Kei sets his phone down on the coffee table. “They’ll have to wait, because I actually have a question for you.”

Oikawa brings his hand to his sternum. “For _me?”_

“Don’t act so surprised,” Kei snaps, but there’s no bite to it. “I need advice.”

“Tsukki-chan, stop. I can only get so erect.”

“Please refrain from ever bringing up your erection in conversation with me.”

Oikawa joins Kei on the couch. “We both know that’s never going to happen.”

“Fine,” Kei tries to look unamused, but he can’t help but succumb to the smile creeping onto his face. “Anyway. Kuroo roped me into going on a surprise date and now is telling me to meet him at the train station in an hour.”

“Oh ho ho!” Oikawa claps his hands together and Kei fights the urge to tell him he looks like a circus seal. “The train station? That’s so vague.”

“I know,” Kei pinches the skin on his forehead. “But nevermind that. What do I _wear_ under these circumstances?”

Oikawa presses his index finger pensively to his lips. “He hasn’t given you any indication that this is some sort of fancy date, has he?”

“I would hope he knows me well enough that he would write off any ideas like that.”

Oikawa’s eyes light up. “Oh, do tell me more about how _well_ he knows you.”

“This was a mistake,” Kei begins to stand up but Oikawa grabs his arm and yanks him back down.

“I tease, I tease, Tsukki-chan! Really, though, if he hasn’t told you to dress a certain way, you’re probably fine wearing whatever you normally would.”

“I suppose you have a point,” Kei concedes.

“So…” Oikawa says in a new, slightly more tentative tone. “Has he… done what he needs to do about Alisa?”

“You make it sound like he called a hit on her,” Kei scrunches up his nose. “But they’ve broken up, for good, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Then I’m happy for you two,” Oikawa says with an air of finality.

Kei looks at him. “That’s it? No other invasive questions or innuendos?”

Oikawa grins. “I mean if you _want_ me to, I’m happy to ask how big his dick is.”

Kei stands up and Oikawa doesn’t pull him back down this time. “That’s enough for today, Oikawa.”

**16:57**

When they meet at the train station, Kei is relieved to see Kuroo is in a red hoodie and his usual black skinny jeans. Not only does it mean that Kei wasn’t wrong to wear blue jeans and a crewneck sweater (a black one, as though to prove his favorite color is black and that he didn’t just select it because of Kuroo’s name), but also that they won’t be going anywhere fancy. 

As they greet each other, Kei is half-tempted to lean in for a kiss, but he isn’t sure how Kuroo would receive that, nor is he truly ready to display any sort of public affection. So they exchange hello’s and Kuroo waves two train tickets in his hands.

As Kuroo guides them to the platform, Kei notices he has a backpack. He tries to keep his tone light as he asks, “uh, should I have packed an overnight bag?

“Ah, no. We’re not going anywhere too far,” Kuroo says. “Don’t worry, Cinderella, you’ll be back in your bed well before midnight.”

 _I’d rather be in your bed_ , Kei thinks. “I can’t tell if you’re calling me Cinderella to make fun of me or because it makes you Prince Charming.”

Kuroo grins. “A little bit of column A, a little bit of column B.”

Kuroo doesn’t let Kei see the tickets, so Kei is kept in the dark until they get on the train and Kei has the opportunity to study the map printed on the inside wall. None of the stops on their route are particularly meaningful to him until his eyes graze over a name that carries a bit more meaning than the others.

“Are we going to Nerima, Kuroo?” Kei asks as they sit down next to one another. Kuroo meets his eyes but doesn’t respond, and Kei accepts this as an affirmative response. “Isn’t that where Nekoma is?” 

Kuroo shrugs. “Maybe.”

A chill runs down Kei’s spine when it occurs to him that there is more than just Nekoma High School in Nerima. “You aren’t like… taking me to meet your family or anything, right?”

Kuroo’s eyes widen and he bursts out into a cackle. Several passengers on the train glance at him, but he’s undeterred. “Jesus, Tsukki, I’m not that much of a sadist. My family doesn’t even live in Nerima anymore.”

Kei shifts from internally freaking out at the idea of meeting Kuroo’s family to feeling embarrassed that he’d voiced his concern in the first place. “You can’t blame me for thinking that!” Kei hisses. “I mean, imagine if I took you on a secret trip and you found out at the last minute we were going to Miyagi!”

Kuroo wipes the corner of his eye where tears from laughter have formed. “That’s fair, Tsukki. Apologies if I gave you a heart attack.” 

When the train starts moving, Kei badgers Kuroo with questions about why they’re going to Nerima and what they’ll be doing there, but Kuroo only offers vague non-answers and smug smiles in response. With Kuroo being tight-lipped, Kei takes the opportunity to catch up on texts that popped up as he walked to the train station.

**_Group Chat: Boyzzzzzzz_ **

[16:24] Kunimi: so I’m not too proud to admit that I’m checking my phone every five minutes for an update from Tsukki

[16:25] Suna: you’ll probably have to wait a while longer

[16:25] Suna: I would imagine that our Tsukki-chan is veeerrrry tired today

[16:26] Kunimi: gross

[16:26] Suna: you are quite literally the one asking about it

[16:26] Kunimi: I’m asking about the VIBES

[16:26] Kunimi: not for a play-by-play

[16:30] Yamaguchi: Kunimi and I right now:

[16:30] Yamaguchi: [image attachment]  
  


The image is of two puppies staring at a cell phone screen. Kei snorts and Kuroo’s eyes flit over, but he looks away when he sees Kei is on his phone. He wouldn’t have minded Kuroo seeing his texts, but appreciates Kuroo opting to give him privacy.  
  


[17:12] Kei: Sorry to keep you all waiting

[17:12] Kei: Especially since I’m not telling you guys anything

[17:13] Yamaguchi: TSUKKI

[17:13] Yamaguchi: You have to give us something

[17:14] Kei: The following will be my only comment on how things went after you guys left:

[17:14] Kei: :)  
  


With that, Kei silences his notifications before tucking his phone in his pocket so that he doesn’t feel his phone vibrating away as his friends react. He wonders what they will be more excited about: Kei having a smiley face-inducing night with Kuroo, or the mere fact that he used an emoticon.

When the train arrives in Nerima about half an hour later, Kei follows Kuroo as they navigate through the station and out onto the street. He can tell that Kuroo feels confident with every step he takes, and as he directs them down through different neighborhoods, he points out places that hold any kind of significance to him: a restaurant he and the other third years liked to eat at, his childhood dentist’s office, the building where his father worked as an accountant for years. 

Kei starts to understand why Kuroo may have wanted to take him here. There’s something about nostalgia that looks good on people - or at the very least, on Kuroo.

He’s so lost in Kuroo’s storytelling that he hardly notices that they’ve arrived at a residential neighborhood until Kuroo points out a house where a friend he used to play soccer with lived. Kei’s pace slows as the meaning dawns on him.

“Are we… near _your_ house?” Kei asks, coming to a stop on the sidewalk.

Kuroo looks over his shoulder and, upon seeing Kei standing still, turns on his heel. “The one I grew up in, yeah.”

“I thought you said your family doesn’t live here anymore.”

“ _My_ family doesn’t,” Kuroo clarifies.

“Then why are we -”

“So impatient, Tsukki!” Kuroo chides playfully. Kei watches him give the quiet street a onceover before he reaches his hand out and links their pinky fingers together. Such a small touch simultaneously calms Kei and sets him on fire. His feet start moving again and he lets Kuroo guide them by his pinky, until they start to approach a house at the end of the street where Kei can make out someone sitting on the porch. He first notices the hunched posture that reminds him of Suna, then the gaming console in the person’s hands, then the brown hair that fades into blond at the tips.

“Kyanma!” Kuroo sticks both of his arms up and out toward the figure on the porch. The stranger sits up straight and Kei sees that it’s no stranger at all, but instead Kozume Kenma, Nekoma’s former setter and unexpected best friend to one Hinata Shouyou.

“Hi,” Kenma says in his monotone, unchanged after all these years. He pockets his console as he stands up and takes a few steps to meet them halfway between the porch and the edge of the small garden outside his house. Kuroo darts forward and throws his arms around Kenma, whose own arms don’t leave his side as he’s embraced. Kuroo lets him go and Kenma regards Kei. “Hi, Tsukishima-san.”

Kei nods at him. “Kozume-san.”

“Too formal, you two,” Kuroo grins and ruffles Kenma’s hair. “Did you manage?”

Kenma holds up a finger. “One second,” he says before he retreats inside the house.

Kuroo turns to Kei. “I promise that the surprise date is not us hanging out with my childhood best friend.”

Kei snorts. “I was just thinking I should call up Yamaguchi and invite him here. It certainly would be romantic.”

“The words Kenma and ‘romantic’ typically don’t get included in the same sentence. Or paragraph.”

“Shut up, Kuro,” Kenma says from where he’s reappeared on the other side of the screen door. When he emerges back outside, he’s holding a plastic bag that looks to be full of takeout containers. He hands it to Kuroo, who thanks him before looking at him expectantly.

“And the other thing?” Kuroo asks.

Kenma sighs. “I mean, do you really want him to see _me_ holding it?”

“Fair point. I’ll be right back, Tsukki.” 

Kenma murmurs some kind of directions to Kuroo as he opens the door for him to go inside. Before the door closes behind him, Kenma sticks his foot inside to keep it open, then angles his face at Kei. “Do you like cats?”

Kei arches an eyebrow. “The animal or the mascot?”

He swears he can make out the faintest thing resembling a smile on Kenma’s face. “The animal.”

“Then yes.”

Kenma uses his leg to push the door open further and bends down. When he stands back up, he has a sickeningly adorable and fluffy orange cat in his arms. He brings it over to Kei. “Her name’s Nami.”

Kei can’t help himself. “Looks like Hinata.”

Kenma huffs in amusement. “I know, it’s uncanny.”

As he pets Nami’s soft fur, he wonders how this all looks from Kenma’s perspective. He’s not brave enough to ask just how much Kenma knows about his relationship with Kuroo, but given that he’s providing them what appears to be food and some other mystery item, he’s definitely not in the dark. Kei shudders internally as he imagines what relationship may exist between Kenma and Alisa.

The screen door opens once again and Kuroo’s arm sticks out first, placing the bag with takeout on the ground. Then his body fully emerges, and in his other hand is a singular rose. A black rose.

Kei’s cheeks immediately collect heat as Kuroo sidles over to him. Kenma, still holding Nami, steps aside and observes with a neutral look on his face.

“I swear this is the most obnoxious gesture I will make today,” Kuroo says as he holds the flower out to Kei, who tentatively takes it by the stem.

“Doubt it,” Kenma mutters into Nami’s fur.

“I was wondering why you asked me what my favorite color was,” Kei remarks as he angles the rose toward his nose and inhales.

Kuroo bends down to pick up the bag of food once again and turns to his friend, using his free hand to pet Nami. “Well, we’ll be out of your hair. Thanks again, Kenma.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kenma says, though his blank expression has been replaced with something that approaches concern. He tugs at Kuroo’s sleeve and lowers his voice. “Can I talk to you? For just a minute?”

Kuroo glances briefly at Kei. “You mind?”

“Go for it,” Kei says.

Kuroo, Kenma, and Nami disappear into the house and Kei is left standing on the porch with his rose. While he’s never considered himself to be the type of person who likes receiving flowers as a present, everything about this whole situation - no matter how strange and slightly awkward it is - is embedded with Kuroo’s charm, including the flower. He lets himself breathe in the sweet smell of the rose as he waits.

Kuroo emerges a few minutes later, without Kenma. “Everything okay?” Kei asks.

“Fine,” Kuroo says. “Just wanted to tell me some stuff about his folks.” He angles his head at the flower. “I hope that’s okay.”

“It smells nice.”

“I mean, the gesture.” Kuroo rubs the back of his neck nervously, and Kei nearly allows himself to lean over and kiss the worry off of Kuroo’s face. But there are people walking on the sidewalk down the street, and for all he knows Kenma is watching them from one of the windows.

“I’ve never gotten flowers from anyone before,” Kei says. “I like it.”

Kuroo smiles softly as they start walking in the direction they came from. He points to the house next to Kenma’s. “That’s where I grew up, by the way.”

“It’s nice,” Kei says dumbly; he’s not sure what else one is supposed to say about someone’s childhood home. “When did your parents move?”

“Right after I graduated high school. My sister and I both officially moved out, so my dad and grandparents had no reason to stick around.”  
“You have a sister?”

“Ah yeah, Ryoko. She’s a few years older than me and works in London now so I don’t see her much.” Before Kei can continue to ask about Kuroo’s family, they turn the corner and Kuroo seems to suddenly remember something. “Ah yeah, I should tell you why I have this.” He raises his arm with the food. “I was thinking we could go to one of my favorite parks and have a little picnic. That way you don’t have to walk into a restaurant with that,” he angles his head at the rose.

Beneath his sternum, Kei feels an explosion of warmth in response to Kuroo’s thoughtfulness. In truth, it did occur to Kei that it would be something like a nightmare to walk about town with Kuroo while holding a flower, as if a sign were painted on him that said _I’M GAY,_ but he was hardly prepared to voice that fear and shit all over Kuroo’s romantic gesture. But it turns out that Kuroo knew Kei better than he had given him credit for.

He lets one hand fall between him and Kuroo’s sides and gently squeezes Kuroo’s hand. “That sounds perfect.”

**19:40**

The park they eat at is a quiet nature park where the walkways are lined with trees and benches. There’s a children’s area of the park with a playground, including a swing set where Kei and Kuroo sit once they’re done eating, since there don’t appear to be any actual children around. Kei pushes himself off the ground with his feet as he holds the swing’s chain with one hand and his rose with the other. The more he looks at it, the more he likes it. He’s glad he chose black.

He turns to Kuroo, who’s swinging in a wider arc next to him. “So what’s _your_ favorite color?” 

“Red, of course,” Kuroo says immediately.

“Oh my god,” Kei laughs. “You are a walking advertisement for Nekoma High.”

“And proud of it!”

“That’ll make it easy for me, though,” Kei says. Kuroo looks up at him curiously. “You know, when I get _you_ flowers.”

Kei can’t recall a time that Kuroo has blushed, but he swears in this moment that his cheeks are dusted with his favorite color. “You’re a romantic after all, Tsukki.”

“Hardly,” Kei snorts. “Don’t start expecting poems from me.”

“Ooh, poems,” Kuroo says. “Good idea. I’ll need to think of some rhymes for ‘Tsukki,’ though.”

“Dookie,” Kei offers.

Kuroo half-cackles, half-barks. “That is _not_ romantic!”

As it gets darker, Kuroo guides them to a hill overseeing the rest of the park and sits down on the grass. Kei bends his knees, planning to plant himself next to him, but Kuroo leans backward slightly and pats his thighs. Before obliging him, Kei can’t help but glance around to make sure no one’s around, though Kuroo doesn’t seem to mind his hesitation. He sets the rose down next to them as he nestles in between Kuroo’s legs and presses his back against his chest. Kuroo wraps his arms around Kei’s middle and places gentle kisses on the back and side of his neck. Kei hums contentedly, feeling as though he could melt from the affection.

“Is it weird that I took you here?” Kuroo wonders aloud.

Kei’s instinct is to say no, but he gives it some thought before answering. “Maybe a little,” he decides, with a shrug. “But I’m glad you did.”

“I thought it’d be nice to get away,” Kuroo murmurs into Kei’s shoulder. “And I wanted…”

When he trails off, Kei moves forward so he can angle his head to look at Kuroo. “What?”

“I don’t know, I wanted to make sure you know that this is real,” Kuroo gestures between the two of them. “What I feel for you.”

Kei looks down at the grass poking out between his fingers. Quietly, he says, “what exactly do you feel for me?”

A hand comes to his chin, tilting his head up so that he looks at Kuroo, whose eyes are fierce. “So much,” he promises, his voice barely above a whisper. “My heart races when I see you. When I think about you.” As if to prove his point, he brings one of Kei’s hands to his chest. Sure enough, Kuroo’s sternum vibrates in quick pulses against Kei’s hand. “That first night, when I saw you again in the arts building, I couldn’t believe it. I thought I’d gotten over my high school crush on you but all it took was me seeing you in that hallway and I knew I hadn’t.” Kuroo pauses, and for a moment, the only sounds are the nervous gulps in Kuroo’s throat, the faint chirping of crickets in the distance, and the _ba dum, ba dum_ of Kuroo’s heart beating into Kei’s palm.

“You’re so special,” Kuroo continues, his voice still low. “I’ve never met anyone who makes me feel like you do. And that scared me. It still scares me. I don’t want to fuck things up and lose you.”

Kei tries to respond, but he feels as though there’s no air left in his body. It takes everything in him just to suck in a breath. His hand drifts from Kuroo’s chest to Kuroo’s own hand, and squeezes. “You couldn’t lose me,” he whispers.

Kuroo squeezes his eyes shut. “I hope that’s true.”

“It is true, as long you let it be,” Kei says. “You won’t lose me if you don’t push me away.”

At that, Kuroo opens his eyes, and Kei is stunned to see that they look glassy. Swiveling around so that their bodies face one another, he reaches his hand out to touch Kuroo’s cheek. “What’s wrong?”

Kuroo shakes his head. “Nothing,” he responds, and it comes out as a pained, quiet gasp. “I don’t know why I’m being like this right now. I’m blaming it on the nostalgia of this park.” He laughs shakily, and gestures at the air with his hand.

“Well, tell me about that, then,” Kei says, desperately clutching at a way to stop Kuroo from crying, to stop himself from crying in response. “Tell me more about the park. What do you like about it?”

There’s a faint sniffle, and then Kuroo’s breathing seems to steady. Kei shifts again so that he can lie down, resting his head in Kuroo’s lap. Kuroo starts running his fingers through Kei’s hair; his scalp tingles pleasantly from the touch. “I came here with my dad all the time as a kid,” Kuroo says after a moment. “This hill especially. He’d always take me here if I had a bad day or something. He’d get me ice cream if it was warm out or cocoa if it was cold, and we’d just sit here and talk until I felt better.”

“That sounds nice,” Kei says, trying not to think about how Kuroo’s father sounds like the polar opposite of his own. “Are you and your dad close?”

“Yeah, for the most part,” Kuroo nods. “It’s harder now, since he moved to Kyoto, but we still talk a lot and see each other during holidays.”

“You said your sister lives in London now, right?”

“Yeah, she’s climbing the ranks of a finance firm out there. We video chat sometimes, but the time difference is rough.”

“I bet,” Kei says. “What about your mom?” Kuroo’s expression doesn’t change, but his fingers stop moving abruptly. Immediately, Kei feels as though he has said something wrong. “Sorry, you don’t have to -”

“It’s fine. I figured we’d get to this at some point,” Kuroo says casually and resumes playing with Kei’s hair. “She died when I was little.”

Kei swallows; it’s his turn to squeeze his eyes shut. Though he knew that whatever Kuroo was going to say about his mother wouldn’t be good, he had hoped this wouldn’t be the case. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Kuroo repeats. “I was four, so I barely remember her. She -” he cuts himself off, as though he’s not sure if he should continue. Kei rubs his knuckles against Kuroo’s calf and hopes it comes across as reassuring. Kuroo coughs before speaking again. “I’ll just rip the band-aid off, since we’re on the subject. She killed herself.”

The words fall from Kuroo’s mouth and crash onto Kei’s chest with the weight of an anvil. His mouth goes slack as he peers up at Kuroo, who has moved to lean back and rest his weight on his palms as he stares toward the sky. Kei sits up and whisks around so that he’s facing Kuroo once again. “Kuroo, that’s - that’s so hard. I don’t know what to say. I just - I’m sorry.”

Kuroo responds with a small smile. “Families are complicated,” he says, shrugging weakly. “Seriously though, don’t worry about it, Tsukki. I made peace with it a long time ago.”

How strong Kuroo must be, Kei thinks, to carry himself the way he does all without letting a hint of this trauma slip out. That this Kuroo - who imbues his surroundings with warmth and laughter, who selflessly taught Kei and his teammates everything he knew about volleyball back in high school, whose friendship is fierce and loyal - is the same little boy who lost his mother in such a tragic way, strikes Kei square in the chest and overwhelms him with an emotion he can’t quite name, otherwise he might try to voice it. Instead, he does the only thing he can think of to communicate his awe at Kuroo’s strength: he leans in and kisses him deeply, channelling all of his adoration into his lips as they slot between Kuroo’s, his fingertips that stroke Kuroo’s cheek, his tender breaths as he sighs into Kuroo’s mouth.

He falls asleep in Kuroo’s bed that night, after they catch the last train home. Behind him, he feels Kuroo’s breath on his neck, the gentle dance of his finger as it strokes Kei’s arm. The last thing he sees before his eyes close is the black rose, which sits in a beer bottle filled with water on the bedside table. On the precipice of sleep, it occurs to him that the nameless emotion he felt earlier isn’t nameless at all. _Love,_ he thinks. It feels a lot like love.


	11. Poetry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello! So after much back and forth in my head I decided to up the rating from M to E, thanks to this chapter. This was one of the most intimidating chapters to write, but I hope you enjoy. :)

**WEDNESDAY, 12:30**

There’s no denying it: Kei is in a good mood. His disposition has been positively sunny all week, and try as it might, the universe could not snap him out of it - not even as he struggled through his physics test on Monday and then nearly collided with Sakata of all people on his way into their lecture hall on Tuesday. She promptly spun on her heel and sat herself on the far side of the room after that. Normally, the interaction may have eaten away at Kei, but he only felt awkward for a bit during class and then promptly forgot all about it, his mind too preoccupied with thoughts of Kuroo to make space for less pleasant thoughts.

Truthfully, they haven’t even spent that much time together since Kei left Kuroo’s apartment on Sunday. Both of them had neglected assignments and exam prep to attend to, which kept them apart on Monday as well. But on Tuesday night, Kuroo invited Kei over for dinner and was adorably domestic as he served Kei grilled mackerel. After dinner they curled up in Kuroo’s bed and mostly ignored the movie playing on his laptop due to wandering hands. Kei woke up in Kuroo’s bed feeling more well-rested than he had in ages. 

Today, there’s a skip in his step as he makes his way to the cafe area and purchases a mediocre soup and salad combination before joining his friends at their usual table. He doesn’t think his expression is any different than usual, but all three of them still look at him like they’re not sure where they real Tsukishima Kei went.

They begin eating and Kei sees that Yamaguchi and Kunimi’s matching bentos contain some delicious looking meatballs and roasted sweet potatoes, the smell of which makes Kei’s mouth water. He turns to Yamaguchi. “What do I have to do to get you to start making me bentos?”

Yamaguchi snorts. “Find me someone who makes me look as dopey and happy as Kuroo-san is making you look.”

Kei’s cheeks redden. “Is it really _that_ obvious?”

“It’s written all over your face,” Suna says matter-of-factly. Kunimi nods in agreement, his mouth too full of potatoes to offer his usual snark.

Kei doesn’t have the opportunity to think up a response, as he’s distracted by a girl who comes up to the table. “Kunimi-kun?”

Still chewing, Kunimi swivels in his seat and faces her. He gulps his food down to free up his mouth. “Hey, Amachi-chan. What’s up?”

She shifts her weight from one leg to the other and tucks a strand of brown hair behind her ear as she talks. “I was wondering if you wanted to meet at the library tonight to work on the sociology project?”

“Isn’t that not due for another two weeks?” Kunimi asks. Suna coughs in a way that doesn’t seem like it’s out of need, but Kunimi pays him no mind.

“Well, there’s no harm in getting a head start, right?” Amachi smiles shyly and twists her bracelet around her arm.

“Guess not,” Kunimi shrugs. “Uh, when were you thinking?”

After they work out the details of their library meeting, Amachi gives Kunimi’s shoulder a quick squeeze before she walks away. When she’s out of sight, Suna glares at Kunimi.

“What?” Kunimi sputters.

“You are legitimately the biggest fucking moron I have ever met,” Suna says. “And I live with Miya Atsumu.”

Kunimi scowls. “What are you talking about?”

“She’s into you, dipshit.”

“Amachi-chan?” Kunimi utters in disbelief. He jerks his thumb in the direction she just left in, as if there is anyone else they could be talking about. “We’re just working on a project together.”

“Literally everything about her body language indicated that she wants to be doing a lot more with you than work on a project.”

Kunimi squints his eyes and glances from Suna to Yamaguchi and then to Kei. “Is he fucking with me?”

“I’m not saying that I wouldn’t be just as thick if I were in your position,” Yamaguchi says. “But from where I’m sitting, I’d say she’s definitely giving off the right vibes.”

“Shit.” Kunimi chews at his thumbnail for a moment, letting this realization sink in. “Well fuck, that makes me nervous for tonight. She’s pretty cute, now that I think about it.”

“So romantic,” Suna drones. His eyes look up at something behind Kei. “Speaking of which…”

Kei turns his head to see Kuroo approaching the table. There’s a swooping sensation in his belly at the sight of the messy hair and Kuroo’s lazy smile. It's not unlike Kuroo's regular smile, but there's something about it that makes Kei know it's just for him.

“Hey,” Kuroo addresses Kei before looking up at the rest of the group. “Mind if I pull up a chair?”

“Go for it,” says Suna, gesturing at the space between him and Kei as he scoots to the side.

Kuroo plants himself in the formerly empty space, then looks to Yamaguchi. “Hey Yamaguchi, I never got the chance to say hi at Tsukki’s apartment the other week. Good to see you again.”

Yamaguchi bows his head. “You too, Kuroo-san.”

Kei motions to the others. “This is Kunimi - he went to the same high school as Oikawa.”

“My condolences,” Kuroo winks. 

“Pfft, thanks,” responds Kunimi.

“And then you probably recognize Suna from Inarizaki,” Kei says.

As confirmation that he knows who Suna is, Kuroo does the same imitation of Suna’s spiking form that he did on the night Kei first ran into him. He looks extremely dorky as he flails an arm up and jerkily bends to the side. Kei can’t help but find it adorable.

“I see my reputation precedes me,” Suna’s expression comes as close to a grin as it appears to be capable of. “But so does yours.”

“Oh?” Kuroo looks from Suna to Kei. “What has Tsukki over here said about me?”

Before Kei can try to steer the conversation in another direction, Suna responds, “well, we know that you’re the reason he kicked us out of his apartment on Friday.”

Kunimi barks a laugh as Kei covers his face with his hands. Kuroo nudges him, his tone amused. “I didn’t know you had company when I showed up.”

“Must we do this?” Kei whines against his palms.

“Probably for the best you sent ‘em out, though,” Kuroo muses, and Kei can hear the wink in his voice. He drops his hands but slumps lower in his seat as the rest of them laugh at the implication.

“I think that’s my cue to get to class,” Kei says, even though he has twenty minutes to get to a class that’s only a five minute walk from the cafe.

“I’ll walk with you,” Kuroo says as they both stand up. “Nice seeing-slash-meeting you guys.”

“Likewise,” Suna says while the others bid them goodbye.

The halls are mostly empty as they walk, since they’re early enough that most of the previous hour’s classes haven’t even let out yet. Still, they walk just as friends would, except their pinkies brush against each other from time to time. Kei sneaks a look at Kuroo out of the corner of his eye just as Kuroo is doing the same to him, and they exchange smiles.

When they get to the hallway where Kei has class, he feels his phone buzzing in his pocket. When he pulls it out, it’s a number that he doesn’t recognize.

He swipes the call to answer it with a “hello?”

“Tsukishima?” The woman’s voice on the other end is familiar, but Kei can’t quite place it.

“Yes, who is this?”

“It’s Alisa. Uh, Tsukishima, can you -” Kei lowers his phone and holds it against his chest. He looks at Kuroo and mouths “it’s Alisa?”

Kuroo’s eyes bulge and before Kei can register what’s going on, he grabs the phone out of Kei’s hands. “Alisa, what the fuck? Don’t call Tsukki.” He ends the call before handing it back to Kei, who looks from his phone to Kuroo with what he’s sure is a dumbfounded expression.

“What was that about?”

Kuroo rolls his eyes angrily. “She’s so goddamn controlling. You should block her number, I doubt she’ll let up.”

“Why does she want to talk to me?” Kei wonders.

“Who knows what her plan is,” Kuroo shakes his head. “Probably to say some made up bullshit that drives a wedge between us so I’ll go running back to her.”

The door to one of the classrooms down the hall opens and students begin filtering out, soon joined by more emptying classes.

“I’ll let you get to class,” Kuroo says. “Sorry again about her. If she keeps bothering you, let me know.” Kei must still look perturbed, because Kuroo leans just a bit closer and says in a low voice, “I really wish I could kiss you right now.” Kei hears something rustling at his side and Kuroo slinks away without further comment.

When he sits down in class, he reaches into his pocket and finds a folded piece of paper. Inside, three lines are inked onto it. Kei snorts when he reads it, and spends the next hour thinking about Kuroo instead of paying attention to his lecture.  
  


_Roses are black_

_They don’t smell like dookie_

_Unlike a certain somebody named Tsukki_

**FRIDAY, 17:55**

Every inch of Kei’s skin buzzes with excitement. He’s done with classes for the week and prioritized getting ahead on homework so he could put any thought of school - of anything that isn’t Kuroo Tetsurou - out of his mind for the next 72 hours. Via text the night prior, Kuroo had more or less indicated that he didn’t plan on doing anything but spending time with Kei that weekend, and Kei was hardly going to object. After exchanging a handful of innuendo-laden messages, Kuroo ended up calling him and they got themselves off to the sound of each other’s voices, before having a slightly awkward, but necessary, conversation about what the _next step_ for them looked like. Requirements were identified, positions discussed, and logistics covered.

Long story short: Kei is prepared to have sex with Kuroo tonight. He’s more excited than nervous, though he certainly finds himself putting a lot more weight on this than he ever did about losing his virginity. But any anxiety he has is strictly about the physical side of what they’re planning to do. Kuroo made it clear that Kei is under no obligation to be the default bottom, that just because he’s younger and slighter does not automatically restrict him to this side of the arrangement. But whenever Kei thought about it, he found that he longed to be underneath Kuroo, to feel the undeniable proof of his arousal fill him up. It places more of a burden on Kei in terms of preparation, but for Kuroo, it’s worth it.

As he considers the nuts and bolts of anal sex, he sweeps his eyes sheepishly across the coffee shop where he’s waiting for Kuroo. Little do his fellow patrons know that the quiet, bespectacled blond boy in the corner is playing out some exceptionally stimulating scenarios in his mind.

He’s distracted from fantasizing by his phone. Expecting it to be a text from Kuroo to let him know he’s nearby, he frowns when he sees it’s Akiteru.  
  


[17:55] Akiteru: Mom and I will be in Tokyo next weekend. Let me know if you change your mind.  
  


He stares hard at the message, so fixated on it that he doesn’t even click on the notification that appears at the top of his screen - it’s the text he was hoping for from Kuroo, the one letting him know that he’ll meet Kei in five minutes. He has a stroke of inspiration, and feeling emboldened, decides to act on it.  
  


[17:58] Kei: I’ll come if I can bring my boyfriend.  
  


He doesn’t even know if he means it, if he would even want Kuroo there before Kei gets the chance to evaluate how his mom is doing, but it feels like the easiest way to both reveal this new piece of information and gauge his brother’s reaction.

A bubbled ellipsis appears almost instantly. He taps his fingers on the side table next to him as he waits for a response.  
  


[17:59] Akiteru: I honestly can’t tell if you’re serious or not.

[18:00] Akiteru: To clarify, I have no issue with it if you are serious.

[18:00] Akiteru: Not that you need my permission.  
  


“Hey, stranger,” Kuroo’s voice rings out from above him, startling Kei. He clicks the side of his phone so that the screen darkens and smiles up at Kuroo as he collects his things and stands.

“Classes go well?” Kei asks as they walk out of the coffee shop together.

“My finance exam kicked my ass a bit, but I still think it’ll turn out okay.”

“Fingers crossed,” Kei offers. When they come to a halt at a crosswalk, he realizes he’s been following Kuroo but doesn’t know where they’re headed. “Are we not going to your apartment?”

“Nope,” Kuroo grins at him. The walk signal appears and Kei follows him across the street.

“Are we going to _my_ apartment?”

“Nope.”

A nervous smile creeps across Kei’s face. “So what are we doing?”

“We’re checking into a hotel room,” Kuroo tells him casually. Kei opens his mouth to respond, to protest, but Kuroo continues before he can. “No objections! It’s my treat. I wanted to get out of our apartments.”

Based on Kuroo’s definitive tone, Kei supposes he has no choice but to accept this - not that he’s particularly opposed to spending the evening with Kuroo in a hotel room in the first place. He just hopes that no one is in the rooms directly adjacent to theirs, or at least that the walls are thick.

He continues following Kuroo. Unsure how much longer they have until they reach their destination, he says, “I told my brother about you. Kind of.”

Kuroo turns his head to look at Kei and slows his pace slightly, though they both keep moving forward. “How’d he take it?”

“Okay, I think,” Kei says. He swallows; the next part is what he really wants to say. “I called you my boyfriend.”

Now Kuroo comes to a complete stop. He starts to raise his hand, as though to touch Kei’s cheek, before letting it drop back by his side. He sighs as he looks up and down the street they’re on, busy with people. “Let’s get to this hotel,” he says after a moment, a smile on his face. “I _really_ want to kiss my boyfriend.”

The hotel that Kuroo takes them to is nicer than it has any right to be, considering what Kei is hoping the two of them do there. There’s a gorgeous, tiered chandelier hanging high from the ceiling of the lobby, and a fancy-looking restaurant on the first floor. Kei doesn’t look at the menu, but he’s willing to bet that some of the items are listed as being ‘ _market price_.’ He wonders just how much cash Kuroo is dishing out just so they can do something that they very well could do back at one of their apartments for free, but Kuroo seems so enthusiastic about the idea that Kei decides not to say anything about it. At the front desk, Kuroo makes small talk with the clerk while handing her his credit card, and Kei idly notes that this is the first time he’s seen Kuroo with his wallet as opposed to loose banknotes and coins.

The clerk hands them each a white keycard and points them in the direction of the elevators. The doors open with a ding and they step inside to see that it’s one of those elevators with glass paneling on one side, allowing them a view of the city as they ascend to the 16th floor. Standing side-by-side, they watch the streets of Tokyo shrink below them, and Kei reaches his hand out to intertwine his fingers with Kuroo’s. He leans over and kisses Kuroo’s cheek, and before he can pull away, Kuroo’s hand is at the back of his neck, keeping him there for a slow, ardent kiss.

By the time they reach the 16th floor and make it down the hallway to their room, Kei’s mind is so clouded with lust and affection that he barely observes the space they’re in, beyond noting that it’s larger than expected, with a king-sized bed and windows offering a view of the city that he’ll want to snap a photo of later. Kuroo shrugs off his backpack and drops it on an accent chair, then takes off his bomber jacket. There’s nothing inherently suggestive about the clothes Kuroo still has on - a black t-shirt that hugs his torso and biceps nicely, and his usual skinny jeans - but Kei’s mouth still goes dry at the sight of him.

“What?” Kuroo laughs when he sees Kei staring.

“You’re just...exceptionally good-looking.”

Kuroo points a finger at his chest and then pretends to look for someone behind him, acting as though there could possibly be someone else Kei was talking to. Satisfied that he is the subject of the compliment, he saunters over and places his hands on either side of Kei’s hips. “Have you seen yourself?”

Kei opens his mouth to reject the notion, but Kuroo knows him too well and cuts him off with a kiss. Kei lets his words die in his throat as he kisses Kuroo back. Their hips sway together as Kei’s hands travel over Kuroo, down his back and back up, then into the silk of his hair. Kei sighs against Kuroo’s parting lips, their bodies pressing closer. One of Kuroo’s hands drifts down Kei’s side and reaches back to cup his ass. Heat gathers in Kei’s abdomen and he steps back to lift his leg up, bringing a knee to rub against Kuroo and confirming that he, too, is responding to the mood. Kuroo’s breathing stutters as Kei moves his knee back and forth, and while it does nothing to alleviate Kei’s own desire to be touched, there’s something distinctly pleasurable about the way Kuroo’s growing erection feels against his thigh.

Kuroo steps back and practically rips his shirt off of his body. Kei tugs off his own top layers and lets them fall to the floor next to Kuroo’s, then, in a moment of heightened courage, pushes Kuroo by the shoulders onto the bed. An amused, slightly surprised smile finds its way onto Kuroo’s face as Kei climbs over him, placing kisses on his neck, his collarbone, his sternum. His hand finds the button to Kuroo’s jeans and he holds his gaze as he successfully unbuttons them this time. He relishes the sight of Kuroo’s jaw hanging slack as he watches Kei unzip and pull at his pants. Kuroo’s hips lift off the bed an inch or two and Kei slides his jeans off, revealing Kuroo’s erection strained against a pair of red boxer briefs with dots of precum along the front.

“Red,” Kei observes with a grin as he takes his glasses off and sets them on the bedside table.

“My favorite,” Kuroo purrs.

Smoothing his palm over Kuroo’s cock, Kei applies only a light amount of pressure, but it’s still enough to have Kuroo throwing his head back on the bed with a soft grunt. _God, he’s hard_ , Kei notes, so hard that it feels cruel to keep his erection cloaked in cotton any longer. Dipping his fingers beneath the waistband, Kei slides Kuroo’s underwear down his thighs and past his knees, at which point they slip off of him entirely. Once again, Kei finds himself utterly enraptured by Kuroo’s bare form, how the tip of his dick gleams bright red and fades into pink down near the base against a backdrop of coarse black hair.

He doesn’t bother waiting or taking time to tease; he’s as desperate to touch Kuroo as he’s sure Kuroo is desperate to be touched. His fingers curl around the shaft and he pumps a few times before adjusting his legs so that he’s straddling Kuroo, then he brings his mouth down to wrap his lips around the head.

“ _Tsukki_ ,” Kuroo rasps. Kei takes him in deeper, letting his tongue glide along a vein as he bobs up and down the length of Kuroo’s cock. He can’t quite swallow around the entirety of Kuroo’s length - he idly hopes that one day he’ll get there - but from the way that Kuroo whimpers above him, he’s satisfied that he’s doing a good job. Kei hadn’t known for sure if he’d be daring enough to do this, but Kuroo’s response has him feeling grateful for his bout of determination. Kei’s cheeks start to feel sore, but he thinks back to how Kuroo’s had hollowed out around his own cock the week before, and it’s all the motivation he needs to keep up his steady rhythm, humming and drooling spit down his chin all the while.

“You taste good,” Kei says when he comes up for a breath, having just felt some precum against his tongue. It doesn’t really taste like much of anything other than salt, but it felt like a sexy thing to say.

“Fuck,” Kuroo groans in wonderment, confirming that Kei’s hunch was right. Before Kei can return his attention to the task at hand, Kuroo’s hand reaches out to tug at Kei’s bicep. “Come here,” he murmurs. “Want you.”

Kei obliges - how can he not? - and crawls over Kuroo, reuniting their lips and pressing their bare chests together. Kuroo’s hands come between them and make quick work of Kei’s button and zipper. Expecting a hand to sneak underneath his loosened waistband, or to have his jeans shoved off, Kei is instead surprised when two soft palms cradle his face.

“I want you to tell me if I do anything you don’t like,” Kuroo says quietly into Kei’s neck; the feeling of his breath against the skin there is almost as erotic as anything else they’ve done up to this point.

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Kei breathes.

“I’m serious, Kei.” Kuroo’s voice is a bit louder now, though still gentle. He strokes the back of Kei’s hair. “We don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to.”

Still bent over Kuroo, Kei lifts his head so he can look him in the eyes. “I think I’ve made it clear that I want to.” He angles his head in the direction of Kuroo’s exposed dick, still covered in a sheen of spit. “As long as you want to.”

Kuroo gulps, licks his lips. “I do,” he affirms. He props himself up and Kei feels a hand wrap around his back. In an instant, they’ve switched positions, except they’re now further up on the bed, with Kei’s head grazing the pillows. Kuroo’s mouth lowers next to Kei’s ear, and his voice is gravelly and low. “I want you so bad, Kei.”

A shuddering breath forces its way out of Kei as Kuroo returns to his pants, tugging them off one leg at a time and bringing his underwear along with them.

“God, you’re perfect,” Kuroo says, leaning forward to kiss Kei while his hand curls loosely around Kei’s cock, stroking a few times before he gets off the bed and digs through his backpack. When he returns, he has a bottle of lube and a foil packet in his hands. Kei swallows hard as the reality of what they’re about to do sinks in, but he’s not losing his desire, not at all.

Kuroo sets the condom packet on the table next to the bed but keeps the lube in hand. “You definitely still want to do this?” Kei can’t find the words, so he nods eagerly. “And you’re ready for me to…?” Kuroo wiggles the fingers of his free hand. Kei nods again, and practically gasps out a yes. Kuroo uncaps the bottle and squirts a generous amount of lube onto his fingers. “Okay, lay back. I think.”

“Could you say that any more confidently?” Kei teases as he complies. Somehow, he thinks he may be the one who’s less nervous.

Kuroo exhales a laugh and plants his clean hand on the bed to keep himself steady. He brings his hand down between Kei’s thighs and -

“ _Ah,_ ” Kei utters. Kuroo freezes. “No, don’t stop. It’s just cold.”

“Shit, sorry,” Kuroo grumbles. “I should have rubbed it between my fingers to warm it up. I read that you’re supposed to do that.”

Kei can’t help the way his face contorts into a shit-eating grin. “How much _reading_ did you do exactly?”

“I wanted to be prepared!” Kuroo tries his best to keep his tone indignant, but he’s laughing. When he refocuses, his shoulders look noticeably less tense. He resumes preparing Kei, smearing the lube around before bringing the tip of his finger just short of pushing in. He looks to Kei, who offers one solitary nod and then feels Kuroo’s slick finger press in and slip inside.

It takes everything in Kei not to jerk his head back onto the pillow, because he knows that doing so would freak Kuroo out and cause him to withdraw his finger. It’s not painful, really, just _new_ , the sensation foreign yet somehow familiar, tight but not unpleasant. “Okay?” Kuroo asks, his finger motionless.

“Keep going,” is how Kei answers. This seems to encourage Kuroo, who begins to shift his finger slightly, massaging just past Kei’s opening. “Shit,” Kei hisses. “That feels good.”

“Really?” Kuroo asks in disbelief, and immediately grimaces at himself for it.

“ _Yes_ ,” Kei reassures him, his voice thin, shaky. Kuroo’s barely applying any pressure, and maybe that’s contributing to it, but it really does feel good. The finger sinks deeper, centimeter by centimeter, and then Kuroo retracts it an inch or two before pushing in again. Kei brings the back of his hand to his mouth as he grits out a restrained moan.

“Holy shit,” Kuroo breathes, his voice full of awe. “You’re so sexy like this.” He lowers his head so that his lips skim Kei’s dick and then flicks his tongue just below the tip, right where Kei is most sensitive. The sound from Kei’s mouth is definitely not restrained this time as he responds to the combined stimuli.

After another minute or so of this, Kuroo pulls out and Kei almost whines until hears the click of the bottle cap. “Do you want another?” 

“Yes,” Kei exhales. “God, yes.”

He cringes a bit when he feels both fingers enter him, the stretching harsher than he expected, but tells Kuroo to keep going. “I just need to get used to it,” he explains.

His fingers still inside Kei, Kuroo leans over to kiss him. “You feel amazing,” Kuroo whispers against his lips, and Kei wonders how it’s possible that Kuroo’s enjoying this through his fingers, but his voice is so earnest, so sweet, that Kei knows there’s no way he’s exaggerating.

“ _You_ feel amazing,” Kei stutters out a laugh, then lets out the most hideously whiny moan of his life when Kuroo’s fingers curl inward. “Fuck fuck fuck, Kuroo, that -”

“Was that -”

“ _Yes_.”

Kuroo lifts his head and Kei sees that his eyes are bulging, his jaw ajar as he regards the way Kei writhes in response to his touch. Kuroo’s mouth is on his again as he continues to work his fingers, and Kei wonders how Kuroo has managed to make something like fingering feel _loving_ , because that’s exactly what it feels like: careful, passionate ministrations with no agenda other than pleasure. He pants into Kuroo’s mouth and makes noises he’d ordinarily be embarrassed about whenever Kuroo’s fingers brush against his prostate.

“I think I’m ready,” Kei says after some length of time.

Kuroo backs his head away again. His eyes dart nervously between his fingers and Kei’s face. “Maybe one more?”

“Okay,” Kei says simply. Again, there’s the removal of digits, the squirting of lube, and the strain of yet another finger entering him, but it turns to pleasure as Kuroo simultaneously attends to Kei’s erection, and leans down to kiss him more. Kei’s tongue nearly lolls out of his mouth when all three of Kuroo’s fingers curl up. “Please, Kuroo, I need you,” he whimpers, his thighs clenching from the sensation. Kuroo’s head lifts and he meets Kei’s eyes, but still seems hesitant. Kei tries a different approach, and whispers, “Tetsurou, please.”

Kuroo needs no more convincing after that. His fingers recede and Kei raises his head to watch as Kuroo fumbles with the condom, ripping open the packet and rolling it on, before squirting lube into his hand and spreading it over himself. Seeing Kuroo stroke his slicked-up cock makes Kei’s own twitch eagerly.

Hovering over Kei, Kuroo uses his hands to guide Kei’s hips into position. Kei’s legs end up suspended on either side of Kuroo’s waist as he lines himself up. “You’ll tell me if you need me to stop?”

“I highly doubt I’ll want to,” Kei says, reaching his hand up to caress Kuroo’s face. With one arm stretched straight to hold himself up and the other gripping the base of his cock, Kuroo pushes in slowly, tenderly, and Kei wills his hips to stay in place, to resist jutting upward in the way they want to. His fingers lose color as they clench at the sheets by his hips.

“Fuck, Kei,” Kuroo’s voice is strained as he sinks in. Every inch further is punctuated with a hitched breath or outright groan. There’s a definite burn to it as Kei adapts to Kuroo’s girth, but it’s not intolerable, and he distracts himself by gluing his eyes to where their bodies connect until Kuroo’s nearly as deep as he can go. He looks to Kei with a question in his eyes. Kei answers with a nod.

His eyelids flutter rapidly as Kuroo begins to move his hips. Kuroo’s mouth hangs open as he draws back and pushes in, sucking in and grunting out breaths as he works up to a steady pace. For Kei, the feeling is so much more intense now than it was with fingers; every thrust brings a wave of pleasure that has his back arching and legs seizing up. Kuroo’s forearms fall against the mattress on either side of Kei, and his lips drift from Kei’s chest to his neck to his shoulders, then finally to his mouth. “Are you good?” Kuroo’s question vibrates between their lips.

“Very,” Kei answers, a hint of a laugh on his voice, enough to drag a chuckle out of Kuroo as well. He wraps his arms around Kuroo, hugging him close and scratching lightly at his back.

“You feel incredible,” Kuroo says as he buries his face in Kei’s neck. “I can’t even - ah - can’t even describe.”

“Go faster,” Kei begs. “Tetsu.”

Kuroo complies, quickening his pace and thrusting more forcefully, groaning out praise and curse-laden nonsense as he does. Kei wraps his legs around Kuroo’s backside and revels in the sound of Kuroo’s hips snapping against him, the feeling of Kuroo’s muscles working to power each thrust, the way the sheets rustle violently beneath him as he clings to Kuroo’s body.

He doesn’t bother to suppress his moans, no matter how whiny or downright animalistic they may get. Kuroo lifts himself off of his forearms, using one hand to guide Kei’s foot onto his shoulder before wrapping his fingers around Kei’s ankle, while the other comes between them and pumps Kei’s dick in time with his thrusting hips. Heat spreads through the entirety of Kei’s lower body, from his abdomen to his curling toes.

“Tetsurou,” Kei cries, unable to hold it in. “I’m so—I’m close, I’m, I’m—”

Impossibly, Kuroo goes even faster. Digging his fingertips into Kuroo’s thighs, Kei drowns in him: his scent, his touch, the sounds of his moans. Everything washes over him, submerging him, overwhelming him. Cum splatters against his abdomen, his vision goes white. Above him, Kuroo’s breathing stutters in pursuit of his own release. He keeps repeating Kei’s name, over and over, and it would almost be comical if it weren’t so goddamn hot, the way he sings Kei’s name like a prayer, recites it like poetry, as though promising that only Kei can give him what he’s chasing after. Kei feels throbbing inside him and Kuroo lets out a heavy groan, his hips jerking uncontrollably until they gradually slow. Kuroo collapses against Kei, paying no mind to the mess. His chest heaves with labored breaths, each one of which Kei can feel vibrating on his skin.

Slumped against him, Kuroo nudges his hips up just enough to pull out of Kei, then kisses him with such passionate force that it might suck all breath from Kei’s lungs if he had any left to spare. “You were so good,” Kuroo mumbles against his lips. “That was so perfect.”

Kei’s head is dazed, his body spent. His arms hold Kuroo against him so that he can feel every arduous rise and fall of his chest, while his lips travel down Kuroo’s jaw and to his neck, sucking so gently it’s probably imperceptible to Kuroo as he continues to bask in the glow of his orgasm. Kei’s body is tired, maybe even weak, but as he runs his fingers through Kuroo’s hair, damp from sweat, he’s overwhelmed by the affection coursing through him. After weeks and months of turbulence, he finally feels like he’s on steady ground.

“Te-tsu-rou,” he says slowly, emphasizing each syllable. 

“Kei,” Kuroo hums into his shoulder.

Words spill out of him, though not as assured as he’d like. “I think I love you.”

Kuroo lifts his head to meet Kei’s gaze. A small, crooked smile forms on his face. “You _think_ you do?”

Kei rolls his eyes. “I know I do. It’s just hard to say.”

“Not for me,” Kuroo beams. “I love you, Tsukishima Kei.”

“God, you’re embarrassing,” Kei laughs, lightly swatting up at Kuroo’s face. But his heart is so full from Kuroo’s immediate reciprocation that all he can do is smile, so wide that his cheeks may end up being the sorest part of his body after tonight.

As Kuroo disposes of the condom and gets a towel to clean up after them, Kei puts his glasses on and checks his phone for the time. He’s encouraged to see that it’s not even 20:00 yet. _We have so much more of tonight to enjoy,_ he thinks. _So much more of this weekend._

He’s determined to savor every second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *screams*
> 
> ...anyway, so I made a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7eme6FXErBnazjwRCUmreD?si=ou1xohVMR0GzfVOeLjwhhQ) for this fic. I may add to it buuuut there it is for now. Songs that go with this chapter are:  
> Charly Bliss - Under You  
> Troye Sivan - Bloom  
> Beach House - Lemon Glow  
>    
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/wooplema)


	12. Wedding Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** This chapter deals with mental health issues. To avoid giving anything away to anyone who wants to go in without any hints, I have included a more specific warning in the notes of the bottom of this chapter. Please reference those before reading if you feel the need!
> 
> Also, vomit is (very briefly) mentioned at the end of this chapter.
> 
> Much love. <3

**FRIDAY (cont’d), 21:22**

They sit on the floor wearing matching plush robes embroidered with the hotel’s insignia, a half-eaten feast spread out in front of them. Kuroo insisted that they take advantage of the room service menu despite prices that made Kei’s eyes bulge, but just like with the hotel room itself, Kuroo held firm that this was his treat and refused to yield to Kei’s protests.

Once he sets his eyes on the assortment of appetizers, curry dishes, and American-style burgers, however, Kei has no complaints. Having both expended a considerable amount of energy earlier, the two of them make quick work of the food, attacking it like it’s their first meal in days. Even now, despite being more or less stuffed, Kei continues to nibble at a piece of prawn tempura while resting his back against Kuroo’s chest. Long, slender fingers comb through Kei’s curls as he licks crumbs off of his lips, and he finds himself giggling.

“What?” Kuroo asks in a low, contented purr.

“Just thinking that this is the height of luxury.”

Kuroo’s lips press feather-light kisses against the back of Kei’s neck just above where it meets his shoulder. “Room service?”

“Not just room service,” Kei clarifies. “More like, having a feast in a high-rise hotel while a ridiculously attractive man plays with my hair.”

“Mm,” Kuroo hums, bringing one of his hands to drag its fingers along Kei’s bare thigh. “Tell me more about this ridiculously attractive man. He sounds fantastic.”

Kei grins. “He’s a pest, actually, but I put up with him because of his washboard abs.”

Kuroo laughs into Kei’s shoulder. “Really, nothing else about him worth mentioning?”

Bringing his pointer finger to his lips, Kei pretends to think hard. “Well, he’s also pretty well-endowed, so that -”

He doesn’t have the chance to finish his sentence, because Kuroo starts tickling at his exposed inner thigh, causing him to squeal with laughter. He scrambles to get away from Kuroo’s wiggling fingers, spinning around only to be pinned to the floor by one of Kuroo’s hands on his wrists while the other continues furiously tickling at whatever skin it can find. “Stop,” Kei gasps between laughs, kicking his legs fruitlessly.

Kuroo relents, but keeps himself bent over Kei so he can lean down to kiss him. The delicate press of his lips on Kei’s contrasts with the unwavering tickles, and Kei melts at the touch even as he breathes heavily. As Kuroo lifts back up, Kei notices his robe has slipped to reveal most of his right thigh and hip, and for the first time Kei notices the jagged white lines running horizontally along the skin there. He reaches his hand toward them and Kuroo twitches at first, as though expecting to be tickled back, but relaxes when Kei’s fingers delicately brush along the marks. “We match.”

“Match?”

Kei swivels his legs around so that he can lift his own robe to reveal similar white marks along his hip and upper thigh.

“Ah.” Kuroo mirrors Kei, bringing the pads of his fingers to dance across the blemished skin. “Tall people problems. I have some on my back too.”

“Me too, on my shoulders,” Kei says. “I feel like I’m supposed to be insecure about it, but I’ve never really minded them.”

“I like them on you,” Kuroo says, still caressing Kei’s skin. He sinks down and lowers his head next to Kei’s hip, then peppers kisses along the lines there. “I like,” _kiss_ , “everything,” _kiss_ , “about,” _kiss,_ “you.” _Kiss, kiss, kiss._

Why his cheeks still insist on going red at this declaration, Kei will never understand. “You’re a sap.”

Kuroo clicks his tongue in mock offense. “Don’t make me tickle you again.”

“I’ll knee you in the dick,” Kei threatens.

Kuroo lifts back up so his face comes level with Kei’s. “I seem to remember you _just_ stating that my washboard abs and gargantuan penis were my only redeeming qualities, and now you’re going to damage one of those things?”

“I definitely never used the word ‘gargantuan.’” Kei flicks Kuroo’s forehead playfully. “I did use the word ‘pest’ though, or have you forgotten?”

“I may be a pest,” Kuroo concedes, leaning in so that his mouth comes close to Kei’s ear. “But I’m a pest you think you love.”

The low, sultry voice Kuroo uses has Kei shivering slightly. “A pest I know I love,” he corrects.

Kuroo kisses the skin below Kei’s ear. “Say it again.”

Kei’s heart flutters in his chest, and he files being told what to do under his growing list titled Things I Find Attractive, But Only When Kuroo Tetsurou Does Them.

“I love you.”

The creases that form around Kuroo’s eyes when he smiles are the same ones Kei noticed back on that first night they reconnected in the arts building. “I love you too, Kei.”

After a prolonged makeout session that begins with Kuroo’s back against the bed and ends with Kei sprawled out on the floor, they both find themselves observing the view from the window. Kei finally takes that photo he meant to earlier, but the picture quality is poor now that it’s dark outside. Noticing Kei has his phone out, Kuroo ropes him into taking a selfie of the two of them and then badgers Kei until he makes it his lock screen photo, although Kei insists that they have to take another one where they’re not so obviously dressed in matching hotel robes. That being said, he definitely doesn’t mind the visual reminder of Kuroo’s pecs peeking out of the robe’s v-shaped neckline.

“Is that a wedding party?” Kei points to a gaggle of people hovering near the building across the street, all dressed in suits and gowns.

Kuroo leans his elbow against the glass as he observes. “Must be.” He turns to Kei, a glint of mischief in his eye. Kei arches an eyebrow as a way of asking Kuroo what he’s thinking. “Think we’ll get married there?”

A goofy smile finds its way across Kei’s face; he’s thoroughly baffled. Not only did they establish that they were boyfriends today _and_ exchange the L-word for the first time, not to mention what they just did on the bed, but now they were talking about marriage? He takes no issue with the idea of him and Kuroo staying together, but discussing it like this, so early into their relationship, feels funny.

Kuroo must pick up on Kei’s befuddlement, because he goes on, “what, you don’t think we’ll get married?” Kei chews his lip, not having expected Kuroo to double down like this. Kuroo moves over and places his arms on either side of Kei, boxing him in against the window - another item for Kei’s aforementioned mental list. “We are _so_ getting married, Tsukishima Kei. It’ll be the party of the century.” There’s a strange look in Kuroo’s eyes that Kei has never seen before, one that he can’t place.

Kuroo pushes off the wall and starts pacing back and forth, leaving Kei against the window with his mouth open and eyes wide. “We’ll have a dog by then, and it’ll be our ring bearer. And a cat, who’ll be the flower girl.” Kuroo points to the cat tattooed on his wrist, as if that same creature will manifest before them with a basket of flower petals in its mouth. “And you’ll look so good in a tux—wait, no! We won’t wear tuxes, we’ll wear our volleyball uniforms, except I’ll be in Karasuno’s and you’ll be in Nekoma’s. I don't think I look good in orange though...”

Kei blinks as Kuroo continues, talking fast as he spins up more bizarrely specific details, such as how he’ll propose to Kei by putting a ring around a joint, or how their wedding cake will be shaped and decorated like a Mikasa volleyball. He rattles ideas off so quickly, as though he’s afraid he’ll run out of time to say them all, that Kei can barely keep up.

“I’m definitely incorporating the speech I made before matches into my vows,” Kuroo says as he walks back over to Kei. “‘ _We are like the blood in our veins, we must always stay moving -’”_

“Okay, okay,” Kei laughs nervously as he grabs Kuroo’s wrists. Mercifully, this shuts Kuroo up. “Enough wedding talk, you sap. We’ve reached enough milestones for today.”

“Mm,” Kuroo considers this, then grins as he leans next to Kei’s ear. “But I like to get carried away.”

Kei presses a kiss to Kuroo’s temple and then wraps his arms around his middle. This close, he can feel Kuroo’s heartbeat racing, and wonders if the thought of getting married really excites him that much. “Too much future talk. Just be with me in the here and now.”

“But the here and now is so temporary.”

The words, and the tone used to say them, are so jarringly somber that Kei has to take a step back so he can look at Kuroo, whose eyes don’t meet his. “What do you mean?”

Kuroo looks down at the floor. “Just feels… like everything is so fleeting, sometimes,” he murmurs. “People are there and then they’re not.”

Kei immediately thinks of Kuroo’s mother, taken from him when he was so young. Kuroo had said that he’d made peace with it, but Kei can only imagine how much of an impact that must have had on him throughout his life, how the torment of it must nag away at him. He remembers their date at the park, and Kuroo’s self-destructing fear that had kept them apart: _I don’t want to lose you._

“Hey,” Kei says, his voice barely above a whisper, and wraps Kuroo in his arms. “Not always. Not me. I’m not going anywhere.”

Kuroo lifts his head from Kei’s shoulder and presses their foreheads together. With a small smile, he says, “I’ll hold you to that.”

**22:51**

The sheets are soft against Kei’s freshly bathed skin, which smells vaguely of the lavender body wash provided by the hotel. His damp hair soaks into the pillow case as he stretches out on one side of the bed, wearing only his underwear while he waits for Kuroo to finish in the shower. They had started out bathing together, but Kei found that Kuroo had a habit of taking much longer showers than he could stand, and that combined with his fatigue drove him out of the bathroom and into the bed. Plus, if he had watched water pour over Kuroo’s naked physique for another minute, he might have jumped his bones again, and his body was definitely not prepared for that.

When the water finally shuts off, Kei’s eyelids are so heavy that he barely registers the sound. His body sinks into the absurdly comfortable mattress as he waits for the familiar feeling of the bed dipping, followed by Kuroo’s strong and loving arms wrapping around him, the warmth of his chest against Kei’s back. Minutes pass - Kuroo is taking longer than expected, and the last thing Kei is conscious of is the shuffling of feet on the floor.

A minute or two later, his body jolts in the same way it does sometimes, when he’s on the precipice of sleep and feels like he’s falling. This time, however, it doesn’t feel quite the same as the hypnic jerks he’s used to. He hears noises he can’t quite place and kicks a leg out to the other side of the bed, only to find that Kuroo still isn’t in there with him.

“Tetsu,” he whines, his eyes still closed. “C’mere. Cuddle me.”

“In a bit,” comes Kuroo’s voice. “Just going to make a konbini run first.”

Kei’s eyes open slowly as the words travel from his ears to his brain. “Konbini?” His voice is muffled against the pillow. He turns his head to where Kuroo’s voice came from and catches the slightest glimpse of him, but he’s convinced he must have seen wrong due to his poor vision, because all he saw was Kuroo’s figure - completely naked - ambling into the small entryway of the hotel room, just out of view from where Kei sits up. “Tetsurou?” He calls out, louder now. There’s a jostling noise and then the sound of a door swinging closed, then silence. Kei gapes in the direction of the door, wondering if he really saw what he just saw, if it means what he thinks it means. _There’s no way_ , he reasons. _That would be completely, utterly nuts._ But it eats at him until he can’t stand it any longer.

Shoving himself off of the bed, Kei yanks his robe from the floor and pulls it on while scurrying over to the door. He opens it just enough to poke his head out into the hallway, but sees nothing other than the patterned hotel carpet and paintings that line the walls, all blurs to Kei without his glasses. “ _Tetsurou_ ,” he calls out in a harsh whisper as he looks from left to right. Getting no response, he raises his voice. “Kuroo!”

His heart rate picks up as he scrambles back inside and snatches his glasses from the bedside table. At the sight of Kuroo’s jeans on the ground, his stomach drops, knowing that it confirms that at least part of what he saw earlier was real. Dropping to the floor, Kei begins searching for his clothing, finding and pulling on everything but his top layers, but he ignores the need for a shirt while he grabs Kuroo’s backpack and fills it with spare clothes. It’s only when he nearly slips on his sweater that he finds it, and throws it on before barreling out the door, his shoelaces untied.

He bolts down the hallway and slams his fingers against the Down button by the elevator, again and again until finally it dings and the doors open. An older couple eyes him suspiciously as he rushes in and nearly trips over them as they exit, but he doesn’t so much as utter an apology, his mind only focused on pressing the Lobby button and getting the doors to close as quickly as they can. No other guests enter the elevator as he rides down the 16 floors, for which he might be grateful if he wasn’t so preoccupied with thoughts of _why can’t this go faster_ and _what the fuck am I going to do?_ The doors split to open and he rushes out into the lobby, seeing the same clerk who checked them in. She’s standing in front of the desk, next to a man in a suit, both of them wearing nervous expressions. Kei pants in front of them, and when he makes eye contact with the clerk, it's clear what both of them are thinking about. “Where’d he go?”

“That way,” the woman points and Kei follows her finger, out the door and to the right. As he sprints down the street, he ignores the strange looks from passersby and scans the buildings, looking for a konbini. He pulls open the door of the first one he comes across and dashes through the aisles, much to the mystification of the shopkeeper, but there’s no sign of Kuroo.

Kei’s chest heaves, his lungs aflame as he exits the store and stands dumbly on the poorly lit street corner. If Kuroo didn’t go to the closest konbini, then there are hundreds that he could have gone to, and every minute Kei spends looking for him in the wrong store is another minute during which Kuroo could get arrested or attacked for being stark naked in the middle of the busy streets of Tokyo.

Kei wills himself to breathe in and out as he thinks of what the best option is, the best way to find Kuroo. He plucks his phone from his pocket and navigates to his recent calls, tapping the correct number before bringing his phone to his ear.

After two rings, the other end picks up. “Hello?”

In between shallow breaths, Kei forces out the words. “Alisa, I think there’s something wrong with Kuroo.”

Nearly half an hour later, Kei is waiting outside the hotel entrance when a cab pulls up. Dressed in a loose sweatshirt and leggings, Alisa exits the car after tipping the driver. She grimaces when she sees Kei.

“The police have Tetsurou,” she says instead of a greeting. Her voice completely neutral, as though she’s telling Kei what time it is.

“The police?” Kei echos, incredulous.

“Don’t worry about it. This isn’t the first time it’s gotten to this point. He’s safe, that’s what matters.”

The words rattle around Kei’s head - _this isn’t the first time_? The synapses in his brain must not be firing correctly, because he can’t make sense of it at all. “Alisa,” he breathes. “What the fuck just happened?”

Alisa’s wide green eyes narrow into slits as she processes the question. She cocks her head to the side slightly, and all of her features seem to darken. “What just happened?” She parrots, venom in her voice. She shakes her head like she can’t believe she has to explain this. “He’s manic, Tsukishima. That’s what’s happening.”

Kei’s jaw falls open, his mouth having gone dry. The word ricochets off of his forehead; he’s unable to process what it means. His voice is small and pitiful when he repeats, “manic?”

Alisa clicks her tongue impatiently. “He’s not well, Tsukishima! He’s bipolar! What the fuck did you _think_ was happening?” Kei can’t answer; his breath catches in his throat. A stroke of realization flashes on her face. In front of Kei she turns from the ethereal half-Russian goddess that Sakata sees her as into a spiteful, scorned woman who channels every last ounce of vitriol into her next words. “What, you think you’re in love? Because _he_ isn’t, Tsukishima. He’s not in love with you. It’s just a crazy fucking trick his mind is playing on him right now.” Kei’s legs feel like they’re going to disintegrate. He needs her to stop, to rescind the words, to make them disappear as though they were never uttered. But Alisa doesn’t stop; she seethes. Her rage takes the shape of a boulder rolling down a steep hill; it won’t stop until she’s at the bottom, having flattened him.

“You want to know what happened last year? He dropped out of school on a whim and decided he was going to move to China and become a Buddhist monk. He bought a plane ticket and everything. All because he thought it was a good idea at the time.” Alisa jabs her index finger at her temple as though to make her point that this is all connected to Kuroo’s mind. She inhales deeply, collecting herself. “All of this is to say that he’s not in a good place right now, and you enabling him isn’t helping. So can you _please_ just stay away?” The last word is barely out of her mouth when she turns on her heel and storms off, her boots clacking loudly against the concrete before she disappears around the corner.

Down the road, cars honk. Elsewhere, people carry on conversations. The wedding party across the street takes photos. Where Kei stands, he is sure that the ground beneath him must be splitting open, sucking him in only to spit him out, a geyser erupting, suffocating him with its steam as it shoots him into the sky and lets him plummet back down, shattering each and every one of his bones on impact.

_He’s not in love with you. He’s not in love with you. He’s not in love with you._

He submits to its pressure, lets it swallow him whole. His knees sink to the pavement, followed shortly by his vomit.

**23:57**

Oikawa is still awake when Kei returns home, lounging in pajama pants on the couch, a bowl of popcorn resting on his shirtless chest. Kei drops his bag on the tiles of the common area and stares vacantly at the wall. He’s vaguely aware of Oikawa’s voice asking if he’s okay, of his hands on Kei’s shoulders, but all he can focus on is the high pitched screaming in his ears and the thumping of his heart. His legs collapse under him and he falls against Oikawa, who wraps his arms around Kei to hold him up.

He doesn’t realize he’s sobbing until Oikawa’s hand wipes away the tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As mentioned above, a more specific warning: This chapter depicts a manic episode during the first two sections (21:22 and 22:51) and addresses the topic of mania/bipolar disorder by name in the 22:51 section.
> 
> \--
> 
> This one kinda broke my heart to write. I want to give Kei a hug.
> 
> Circling back to the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7eme6FXErBnazjwRCUmreD?si=ou1xohVMR0GzfVOeLjwhhQ), the song I chose for this chapter was “It’s All So Incredibly Loud” by Glass Animals. I picture that song playing as Kei realizes something’s wrong with Kuroo, and it slowly crescendos as he races through the streets and then reaches its climax when Alisa storms off and he sinks to his knees. Most applicable lyrics:
> 
> _Whispers would deafen me now  
>  You don't make a sound  
> Heartbreak was never so loud_
> 
>   
> UGH. Emotions.
> 
> For those who have not seen Skam, I’m super curious to hear how this did or didn’t match your predictions of what was going on with Kuroo. I know that when I watched Skam, I didn’t at all predict that Even (the character Kuroo is based on) was bipolar, but I also wasn’t looking for signs of that. I also think that a written story requires more heavy-handed hints than a TV show. Or maybe I’m just not good at subtlety… 😅
> 
> <3 <3 <3


	13. Place For You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends! A quick note before we jump in - this chapter has a lot of discussion/assumptions made related to bipolar disorder. I just wanted to make sure it was clear that all of this is supposed to be how Tsukishima interprets what he learns about the condition - and his thoughts are not necessarily reflective of my own.

**SATURDAY, 14:07**

Kei’s pillow still smells faintly of Kuroo.

He hates it.

He sinks into his mattress, his chin tucked against his chest as he scrolls through articles about bipolar disorder. Throughout his life, “bipolar” has only ever been a word heard in passing, used colloquially to describe small mood swings or the weather. Other than that, he knows next to nothing about the actual condition. Perhaps it’s his emotional state, lack of sleep, or a combination of both, but when he scans through the results of his search, he struggles to make sense of what he reads. Phrases like _unusual shifts in energy_ and _changes in activity levels_ mean next to nothing to him. Who doesn’t experience shifts in their mood? Who doesn’t sometimes feel more depressed or hyperactive than usual?  
  


Google search: _symptoms of mania  
  
_

Scanning bulleted lists of symptoms, realization begins to dawn on him. He reads “poor decision-making” and immediately thinks back to breaking into the athletic building for a swim. He weakly nods at two sequential bullet points -“talking fast” and “distracted easily” - as he recalls Kuroo’s monologue about getting married. His face goes cold at “impulsive spending.” Guilt roils in his stomach when he thinks of how much money Kuroo must have spent on the hotel and room service.

His eyes land on another item: “reduced need for sleep.” Kei closes his eyes as he thinks back to all the times they’ve slept next to one another, and it occurs to him that he never actually saw Kuroo fall asleep. His gut twists more when he remembers the day they napped in his bed - except Kuroo had been awake the whole time.  
  


Google search: _how long does mania last  
  
_

The answers vary widely. Some sources say two days, others say 13 weeks. One article says that mania can last up to six months if left untreated. Kei opens the calendar app on his phone and counts out seven weeks since the semester started. _Is it possible he’s been manic this whole time?_ He can’t fathom how the same person who roamed naked across Tokyo could manage life as a college student. And yet, Alisa’s tirade echoes in his head: _it’s just a trick his mind is playing on him right now._

Tears prick at the corner of his eyes, tears he didn’t even know he had left in him. He knows he should stop reading at this point, knows that it will only worsen the depth of his pain, but he finds there’s something addicting about it. He scans more articles until he sees one symptom that brings a new wave of nausea: _increased sex drive and impulsive or reckless sexual behavior._

  
Google search: _can someone consent to sex if they are manic  
  
_

A scholarly article tells him that there isn’t much research to say whether or not those undergoing mental episodes can give consent to sexual activity, but some studies suggest that “severe psychiatric disorders” may interfere with a person’s capacity to give consent. Kei’s not sure what counts as a _severe_ psychiatric disorder, but the damage is done. Suddenly, there’s no oxygen in his room; his throat closes up like he’s having an allergic reaction. He slams his laptop shut and throws himself from the bed, stumbling out into the apartment in desperate search of water.

At the kitchen counter, Oikawa is drinking tea with Yamaguchi, who has been at the apartment since Oikawa called him the night before. Their concerned expressions immediately hone in on Kei as he frantically rummages through the cabinets in pursuit of a glass. 

Yamaguchi is the first to speak, offering a simple “Tsukki?” as Kei fills a cup with tap water from the sink and chugs it all in one go.

“Tsukki-chan, are you okay?” Oikawa asks.

Kei sucks in a breath now that he’s gulped down the water. “No,” he replies, not bothering with any more lies or attempts to conceal his feelings. The night before, he let out full-body sobs as Oikawa cradled him in his arms, only letting go when Yamaguchi arrived to take his place. So much of Kei’s snot got on Yamaguchi’s shirt that he needed to borrow one from Oikawa.

They know he’s a wreck. There’s no point in trying to make them think otherwise.

“Do you want tea?” Oikawa offers feebly. Kei shakes his head and refills his glass, then sits at one of the barstools. He grimaces when his tailbone hits the wood, his soreness an unwelcome reminder of yesterday’s short-lived euphoria. Between that and his splitting headache - no doubt from scrunching his face up to sob for hours - he feels both mentally and physically destroyed.

Yamaguchi takes the seat next to him and rubs his back gently. “Tsukki, I know this is really hard right now. But it’s gonna be okay. I promise it will.”

Kei sets his cup down and rests his forehead against his open palms. He heaves a heavy sigh. “I don’t know.”

“It will, Tsukki-chan,” Oikawa says softly, like he’s talking to a wild animal. “Even if it doesn’t feel like it.”

Logically, he knows these words of support are meant to soothe his wounds. But instead of acting as a salve, they only pile on the damage, each utterance making what happened more real and tangible. He feels the familiar thickening in his throat, coupled with his jaw trembling. “It didn’t mean anything to him.” Tears begin to roll onto his cheek, and he lets them.

“You don’t know that,” Yamaguchi insists.

Kei has no reply for this, at least not one he can verbalize. When Yamaguchi came over the night before, Kei had tried to tell him and Oikawa what Alisa had said, but it all came out in hysterical babbles that he highly doubts were coherent. Today, he doesn’t trust himself to repeat the words without the effort splitting him in two. So instead he weeps, and lets that serve as his response. Yamaguchi continues to rub at his back, eventually joined by Oikawa.

Back in his room, Kei flops onto his bed with the intention to take a nap. His phone chimes, and he glances at the screen to see that he has a handful of unread text messages. Several of them are from Kuroo, who has been texting Kei on and off all day. When he saw the notifications for the first batch earlier that morning, he had felt a brief sense of relief at the thought that maybe, just maybe, Kuroo would say something that would clear up this whole situation and relieve his agony. But he doesn’t; his texts - unhinged streams of consciousness, random song lyrics, and attempts at poetry - only serve to further Alisa’s point that he’s not in a good place. The latest messages combine to form another poem.  
  


[14:55] Kuroo: Roses are red

[14:55] Kuroo: That’s what they say

[14:55] Kuroo: But none are as pretty or funny as Kei  
  


Kei might laugh if he didn’t think it would result in him sobbing all over again. But he can’t laugh, can’t even smile, because he knows that this Kuroo is the same as the one who left the poem in his pocket last week, and that Kuroo is the same as the one whose feelings for Kei are as real as his desire to fly to China for life as a Buddhist monk: spontaneous. Costly. Temporary.

His other unread messages are from Akiteru. He debates if he should even open them, and ultimately decides that he might as well deal with it now rather than having it hang over his head.  
  


[15:03] Akiteru: Kei, you never responded yesterday, but I just want to let you know that if you do have a boyfriend (which I’m guessing you do) that it doesn’t change anything, that I still love you just as much as I always have, ever since you were born.

[15:03] Akiteru: I know that things with our family have never been easy. But I love you so much Kei. I always have and always will.

[15:04] Akiteru: I really hope you come to dinner on Friday. I’ll text you the details later in the week.  
  


There’s no sense trying to stop the tears. They flow and flow and flow.

**WEDNESDAY, 12:29**

It’s unclear to Kei if the campus soup is especially revolting today, or if it just seems that way due to his non-existent appetite. Either way, he barely touches it, instead opting to nibble feebly at the crackers that came with it.

It’s the first day he’s bothered to return to classes and also the first time he’s eating lunch with his friends since before the weekend. He had rationalized skipping class by reasoning with himself that it’d be impossible to focus his attention on lectures - which, now that he’s put that theory to the test, has proven to be true. His mind always wanders to Kuroo, to the events of the weekend, to the heartache that permeates every inch of his body.

Yamaguchi watches him carefully out of the corner of his eye, nudging his bento over every once in a while in a futile attempt to get Kei to eat something substantial. Across the table, Suna observes but doesn’t say anything, while Kunimi is running late since he forgot his bento at home.

“Tsukki, you really need to eat something,” Yamaguchi says. He’s trying to keep his voice low, but Yamaguchi has always been terrible at whispering, and now is no exception. Suna looks up at them through his bangs, but maintains his passive, silent approach.

Kei wrinkles his nose. The thought of eating something makes his stomach feel unpleasantly heavy. “Not hungry.”

Yamaguchi clicks his tongue. “Oikawa said you’ve barely left your room all week, so I know you aren’t eating.”

“Since when have you and Oikawa been all buddy-buddy?” Kei asks, purposefully avoiding Yamaguchi’s point.

Yamaguchi sighs heavily at Kei’s feigned confusion. “Since Friday night when you -” he stops himself and looks over at Suna, who merely raises his eyebrows.

Kei’s eyes flit between the two of them and finally pause on Suna. He decides dancing around the subject is stupid, and more trouble than its worth. “Kuroo had an incident.”

Suna’s expression remains unchanged. “What, he wet himself or something?”

“Who wet himself?” Kunimi’s voice rings out from above Kei. Startled, Kei jumps, and barely avoids sending his soup bowl careening to the floor with his hand. “Jeez,” Kunimi says as he sits down on the other side of Kei.

“No one wet themselves,” Kei mutters after taking a moment to compose himself. “He had a manic incident. He’s bipolar.”

“Who, Kuroo?” Kunimi asks. Kei nods. “Huh, interesting. My sister’s bipolar.”

“Really?” Kei and Yamaguchi say in unison.

“Yeah, she was diagnosed a few years ago.” Kunimi starts laughing to himself. “Dude, one time she got so pissed at her landlord while she was manic that she filled his office with goose shit. She had to find a new place to live.”

Kei blinks. “Yeah, that doesn’t make me feel better.”

Kunimi shrugs unapologetically as he removes the lid to his bento. “Where’s Kuroo at now?”

“I don’t know, probably his apartment.”

“No, I mean, is he still manic?”

“I don’t know,” Kei repeats. “I haven’t talked to him since… since he walked out onto the street naked on Friday.”

Kunimi takes a second to stifle a laugh before responding. “You haven’t talked to him? Why not?”

Kei shoots him a look, like the answer is obvious, but Kunimi’s brow remains furrowed. “Because none of this was real to him.”

It’s Kunimi’s turn to blink, which he does while cocking his head. “Uh, what?”

Kei sighs, wishing he didn’t have to explain it. If Kunimi’s sister is bipolar, why doesn’t he just _get it_? “This was all just an idea he had in his head. Being with a guy. Being… with me.”

“Did he tell you that?”

As he processes the question, Kei is reminded of his attempt to join the debate club in middle school. He loved pissing people off and proving them wrong, so school-sanctioned arguments seemed like the perfect fit. He quickly learned that debating demanded more than just quippy comebacks; it required a lot of preparation and commitment, which Kei was hardly interested in entertaining. Before his brief tenure in the club ended, he remembered how frustrated he got in one instance when his opponent kept asking questions that Kei not only couldn’t answer, but never had even considered to ask himself in the first place.

Just like the ones Kunimi is asking him now.

Still, he bristles instead of relenting. “No, he didn’t have to. Alisa said -”

“Alisa?” Kunimi practically spits. “As in Kuroo’s model-ass ex-girlfriend? _She_ told you that it didn’t mean anything to him? And you listened to her?”

Kei shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Well, she knows his condition a lot better than I do.”

Shaking his head in disbelief, Kunimi says, “and you assholes think _I’m_ the dumb one when it comes to relationships.”

“You are,” Suna says.

Kunimi ignores him and turns to face Kei directly. “Tsukki, just because he was manic doesn’t mean his feelings aren’t real. You should just _talk_ to him, you know, once he’s had the chance to calm down.”

Kei stares down at his hands, which are folded neatly in his lap. There’s a part of him that wants to believe Kunimi—a part of him that _does_ believe Kunimi. A voice in his head that says what he had with Kuroo was real, no matter what Alisa may think. But even if there is a future for him and Kuroo, it terrifies Kei to picture it. How can he support Kuroo through more bouts of mania when all it took was one night for things to fall apart? How can he be a good partner to someone with a mental illness, when the thought of facing his own mother gives him heart palpitations?

“What is it?” Kunimi asks at Kei’s conflicted expression.

“I’m just so out of my depth with this,” Kei admits. There’s a catch in his voice, one that warns him that if he keeps going he may break down again. Yamaguchi picks up on this immediately, and brings a hand to Kei’s shoulder, squeezing gently.

“Maybe we can talk about this some other time,” Yamaguchi suggests as he retracts his arm. Kei just nods down at his lap. “But we’re here for you.” 

“Yeah, we are, Tsukki,” Kunimi agrees, in what has to be the sincerest voice that Kei has ever heard him use. It’s so jarring that Kei can’t help but lift his head to gawk at him. Kunimi looks from side to side, then pats at his cheek. “Do I have something on my face, or…?”

“You’re… a nice person, Kunimi,” Kei says.

Kunimi’s eyes narrow. “You’re just… you’re just realizing this now?” 

“Personally,” Suna chimes in. “I have yet to come to that conclusion.”

**FRIDAY, 17:39**

Kei wants to tell himself that it’s because he has no choice, or because he feels obligated. But he knows that either would be a lie. A tentative curiosity has rooted itself within him, which is why he finds himself punching the address of the sushi restaurant that Akiteru had texted him into his map app. It’s about a half-hour walk, but he decides to go on foot anyway, feeling that the time he’d save by taking the bus would just be extra minutes during which he could stew in anxiety. Still, he’s a few minutes early when he approaches the restaurant, but finds that his family is already waiting outside.

His palms sweat when he first catches a glimpse of them. His mother is facing away from him, Akiteru talking to her until he notices Kei approaching. When his mother looks over her shoulder, Kei feels so raw that he could start crying again then and there.

“Kei!” Akiteru dashes over, pulling him into a hug. “God, you’re so tall. I always forget how much taller you are than me.”

“That’s because you don’t want to accept it,” Kei teases as they break apart. He may be nervous, but making jabs at his brother is second nature. He turns to his mother, who is quite a bit shorter than Akiteru and therefore significantly shorter than Kei. He does his best to keep his voice steady as he says, “hi, Mom.”

She pulls him into a hug, firmer than he’s expecting, and reaches up to stroke at the back of his hair. “Hi, sweetheart.”

When they pull apart, Kei gives her a quick once-over and is surprised to see how good she looks. Last time they were together in person, she looked haggard; her appetite was nearly non-existent and the bags under her eyes were heavy from too many nights of fitful sleep, largely due to nightmares. But now, standing in front of Kei after so many months, she looks shockingly healthy. Her cheeks have filled out and her eye bags are still present, but the swelling has abated considerably. Kei puts a hand on her arm. “You look really good, Mom.”

She looks genuinely touched when she says, “thank you, Kei.” She nudges Akiteru with her hip. “It’s all thanks to your brother. He’s becoming quite the cook, you know.”

“Really?” Kei arches an eyebrow dubiously. “The same person who once ‘forgot how to boil water’ is turning into a chef?”

“I had a momentary lapse of memory!” Akiteru defends with a chuckle. His smile fades as he glances past Kei. “I thought you were planning to bring someone, Kei. A boyfriend?”

The question hits Kei square in the chest with the force of a bullet. Immediately, he looks to their mother, whose face is not one of disgust or objection as he so often pictured it would be. Instead, she just looks curious - hopeful, even, like she’s looking forward to meeting her son’s partner.

Still, it’s too much for Kei, given the week he’s had. He looks down at his feet. “Uh, that was just a joke, Aki.”

“Oh,” Akiteru responds, his tone somewhere between doubt and surprise. After a moment, he says, “well, let’s go inside.”

Akiteru places a hand on their mother’s back and they begin walking toward the door. As Kei watches them move further away, he inexplicably utters, “it wasn’t a joke.”

They both swivel around, their brows furrowed. Akiteru takes a step toward him. “Kei?” 

“It wasn’t a joke,” Kei says, his voice thick with tears he hopes won’t come. “It’s just over.”

His mother steps forward and places a tentative hand on Kei’s arm. “Honey, I’m sorry to hear that.”

Kei sniffles despite himself. “You really don’t mind?”

“That you didn’t bring anyone?”

He could laugh, if he weren’t so focused on trying to hold himself together. His eyes are glued to his feet as he clarifies. “No, not that. I meant, you don’t mind that I was with…”

A delicate hand cups his chin and he makes eye contact with his mother. “A boy?” She finishes for him with a small smile.

There’s a strength in her countenance that Kei hasn’t seen in years, maybe a decade. For so long, she was imprinted in his mind as a cowering woman, only able to be the mother she wanted to be when her hateful husband wasn’t around. Gradually, and then all at once, she morphed from a terror-stricken but doting maternal figure into something completely foreign - paranoid and unstable, irrational and disoriented. She went from shielding herself against cruel tirades to being the source of them, and Kei didn’t know if he could ever forgive her for adopting his father’s hostility even after he had left.

But now, all the anger and distrust he held in his heart toward his mother melts away as she stands in front of him. Kei sees that the woman he came to fear - maybe even hate - is not defined by the things she’s said and done while struggling with trauma.

Just like Kuroo isn’t defined by his mania. 

“Sweetheart, I don’t care about any of that. If I ever said anything that makes you think I wouldn’t love you because of that, then I’m sorry.”

For the second time in a week, Kei finds himself on his knees on the sidewalk of a busy Tokyo street. This time, however, he’s in his mother’s arms, crying quietly as she rubs his back. Akiteru’s palm comes to his shoulder and Kei sobs harder. “I’m sorry,” he weeps into his mother’s coat. There are no doubt people staring at them, a hunched mess of limbs and tears on the sidewalk, but Kei doesn’t think about that now. “I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you, Mom.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” his mother coos as she strokes his hair. “You’re here now. We’re all together right now. It’s okay.”

**21:53**

They abandon their restaurant plans in favor of bringing takeout back to Akiteru’s hotel room. This way, they’re able to eat without worrying about dissolving into another public cry fest. Having left all their regret and sorrow out on the street, dinner ends up being pleasant, more so than Kei could have hoped for. He listens closely as Akiteru talks about his job and laughs at stories about his coworkers. He describes his living situation with Oikawa and watches his mother’s expression oscillate between amused and aghast. He and his brother smile as their mother reminisces about the two of them as children. At the end of the night, Kei hugs them both close and promises that he’ll see them again soon.

Back at his apartment, Kei prepares himself a cup of tea and sips it at the kitchen counter. With Oikawa out somewhere and Ebihara huddled away in his room, Kei allows himself to decompress from the cathartic events of the night. He’s both physically and emotionally drained, but it’s different from the exhaustion he’s carried with him for the past week. There’s an underlying sense of contentment, of warmth, and he wants to hold onto it for as long as he can.

After his tea is gone, he’s about to undress for a shower when his phone buzzes several times in a row. His heart leaps into his throat at the sight of Kuroo’s name.  
  


[21:58] Kuroo: Hi Tsukki. I’m under the walking bridge by the arts building and thinking about how we were here together not long ago. I have so many things I want to tell you, but most of all I want to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I scared you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that I’m bipolar. I didn’t want to lose you. I know that was selfish.

[21:58] Kuroo: I know that you’re not looking for more mental illness around you. I know that means that there’s no place for me in your life. But please know that every moment we spent together made me the happiest I've ever been, and I meant everything I said to you.

[21:58] Kuroo: I love you, Kei. Thank you for everything.  
  


Kei’s hands tremble so violently that he nearly drops his phone. Instantly, his plans to shower and go to bed early evaporate. He grabs a jacket from his closet and races out the front door of his apartment. From here to the arts building, it’s about a 20 minute walk, but Kei doesn’t intend to keep his usual sluggish pace. He propels himself forward, using his long legs to practically fly down sidewalks and through intersections. It doesn’t take long for his chest to start burning from the exertion but he doesn’t allow himself to slow, nor does he bother to fret about the curious faces from passing strangers, all of whom are a blur as he darts by them. The only thing he cares about is making it to the walking bridge before Kuroo leaves.

One part of Kuroo’s message keeps reverberating in his mind: _There’s no place for me in your life._ How could Kei have been so stupid? Back at the library, when he flippantly mentioned that he was better off without his mother’s mental illness around him, he never considered the weight of those words and how they must have been rattling around Kuroo’s mind ever since. _The here and now is so temporary. People are there and then they’re not._ That’s what he’d said in the hotel, shortly before that night ended in heartbreak. All this time, Kuroo was working against an expiration date that Kei had set without realizing, without meaning to.

He’s spent so many hours over the course of the past week reflecting on moments that were recontextualized after finding out about Kuroo’s mania. But now, as he runs, flashes of other memories flicker in his mind: Kuroo teasing him from across a volleyball net, goading him into being better; Kuroo offering him a joint, wearing his trademark devilish grin; Kuroo crying from laughter as he flubs yet another Mario Kart race.

Kuroo, kissing Kei in the pool.

Kuroo, lying in Kei’s bed, holding him as he napped.

Kuroo, carefully preparing Kei before they had sex. 

Kuroo, handing Kei a black rose, stuffing a poem in his pocket, tickling him on the hotel floor.

Kei, telling Kuroo he loves him. Kuroo, saying it back.

With every recollection Kei is motivated to go faster. It’s only once he’s at the edge of campus, with a sharp pain in his calves and sweat sticking to his forehead, that he allows his pace to slow. His chest heaves as he approaches the walking bridge, but he doesn’t see Kuroo. He looks around and under it, but there’s no sight of the long legs or familiar messy hair. He gasps for air as he considers what to do, and helplessness weighs on him until the doors to the arts building open and Kuroo emerges. He takes only a few steps before he sees Kei, hunched over and breathing heavily, and stops in his tracks. Kei’s body allows him one last moment of heightened strength as he dashes over to Kuroo and wraps him in his arms.

“Kei,” Kuroo breathes on his shoulder, his tone one of surprise, disbelief. Kei keeps his hands on Kuroo’s arms as he brings his head back to study him. He looks noticeably tired, but what’s most striking is how vulnerable he appears. Gone are all traces of the confident schemer, the crafty captain, the joint-wielding flirt with the sly smile. In their place stands a wide-eyed boy, scared and exposed.

“Tetsurou,” Kei whispers. He rests a hand on Kuroo’s cheek and strokes it gently. Looking at him, Kei remembers the heartbreaking words on his phone screen. “Tetsurou,” he says again, and stares directly into Kuroo’s eyes. His hands find one of Kuroo’s and place it against his thumping chest. “There will always be a place for you in my life.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eee! This one was a bit of a rollercoaster, huh?
> 
> Obligatory [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7eme6FXErBnazjwRCUmreD?si=ou1xohVMR0GzfVOeLjwhhQ&nd=1) mention: the song for this chapter is Loud Places by Jamie xx, which, if this were a movie, would play while Kei runs to the walking bridge. I think the song is technically about a break up, so most of the lyrics don't really apply, although this section does:  
>    
> _I go to those places  
>  Where we used to go  
> They seem so quiet now  
> I'm here, all alone_
> 
> I can't believe there's only one more chapter to go! Would you believe it if I told you I haven't even finished the draft of it yet? Heh... oops. I guess I just don't want this story to end...but I promise I won't let it sit too long.
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/wooplema)
> 
> <3


	14. Take One Step, Then Another

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First things first, before we dive in, I want to mention that there is (again) some mention of suicide in the “Thursday, 18:16” section of this chapter.
> 
> Secondly, I want to share - no, I want to SCREAM about - the AMAZING, INCREDIBLE [fanart](https://twitter.com/phixuscarus/status/1369386622379302915) that the one and only Phixuscarus created of the final scene of the last chapter. It is truly mind-boggling to me that anyone - let alone an artist I’ve admired for quite some time - would create art based on something I wrote, and I am so so so grateful to Phix for bringing that scene to life. And, oh, it’s so perfect. Their expressions, the atmosphere… I could stare at it for days. Thank you, endlessly, Phix. <3
> 
> Finally, I’ll include a longer message in the end notes, but for now I’ll just say, if you’ve come this far with me, no matter at what point you hopped onto this little rollercoaster - thank you so much. :)

**SATURDAY, 11:04**

Normally, Kuroo’s face is angular and solid. Sculpted cheekbones sit high on his face, while his wide jaw tapers off into a sharp chin. But as Kei watches him now, with his cheek pressed into the pillow and lips slightly parted, he can only be described as soft. Kei hasn’t had the chance to watch him sleep before, but relishes it now - the way that Kuroo’s chest rises and falls with each inhale and exhale, how his fingers curl up into the blanket, the tranquility on his face. Over an hour has passed since Kei first woke up, but aside from using the bathroom, he hasn’t left his bed, opting instead to watch Kuroo rest for as long as he can.

That is, until his stomach begins rumbling, its volume growing with each occurrence to the point where it rivals the noise produced by the fan in the corner of the room. Kei decides it's better that he excuses himself before Kuroo wakes up to the groans of his belly.

Ambling out of his bedroom, Kei sees Oikawa sitting at the kitchen counter, his laptop open in front of him. Keeping his voice quiet, he waves Kei over and says, “Tsukki-chan, say hi to Iwa-chan!”

Kei steps next to Oikawa and sees Iwaizumi Hajime’s spiky black hair and remarkably tanned skin, no doubt from the California sun. He hasn’t seen Iwaizumi since Aoba Johsai lost to Karasuno in Kei’s first year, so he’s not entirely sure what to say other than, “uh, hi Iwaizumi.”

“Hi Tsukishima,” the deep voice on the other end says. He’s resting his head on his palm and wears a relaxed, lazy smile on his face, though something about his tone indicates that he, too, thinks it’s a little strange that Oikawa has decided to invite Kei into this conversation. “Long time.”

“Yeah,” Kei agrees. “How’s California?”

“Warm and sunny,” Iwaizumi responds with a shrug. “You’re a saint, by the way.”

“Huh?”

“For living with that thing,” his smile widens as he points to the side of the camera where Oikawa must be showing up on his screen.

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa complains. “So rude!”

Kei laughs. “He’s not so bad.”

Oikawa turns to Kei like he’s just said something shocking. “I’m not?”

“The fact that he’s surprised by that says everything,” Iwaizumi comments.

Oikawa takes back over to scold Iwaizumi, so Kei makes two cups of coffee while they wrap up. Once Oikawa’s done, he turns to Kei. “Is Kuro-chan still sleeping?”

Kei nods. “Last I checked. He’s really tired.”

“I’m sure,” Oikawa says. “Well, I went out this morning and got some stuff to restock the fridge, if you want to make him breakfast.”

Kei raises his eyebrows. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Oikawa shuts his laptop and folds it under his arm as he hops off the stool. “The state of our fridge suggested otherwise.” He gives Kei a pat on the shoulder as he passes him before disappearing into his room.

After examining the fridge, Kei prepares miso soup with tofu, and cracks an egg over a steaming hot bowl of rice which he then garnishes with some avocado slices. He’s hardly an expert in the kitchen, but from the look of it, Kuroo could use a proper meal. After plating the food, he carefully brings it back into his bedroom. Kuroo is still in bed but his eyes are open, his nose twitching slightly when he smells the food.

“Good morning,” Kei says as he sets the food down on the bedside table next to Kuroo’s head.

“Morning,” Kuroo’s groggy voice says back. “What time is it?”

“Close to noon, I think.”

“You made me breakfast?”

“I did. You have Oikawa to thank for restocking the fridge though.”

With a yawn, Kuroo pushes himself up so that his back rests against the headboard. When he speaks again, his voice is quiet and uncharacteristically bashful. “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” Kei assures him. On the other side of the bed, he lifts the duvet and slides under it. When Kuroo doesn’t move, Kei asks, “are you not hungry?”

Kuroo shakes his head. “No, I’ll eat,” he says, and picks up the bowl of rice and the chopsticks Kei left next to it. After a bite, he looks down at his food and says, “you don’t have to feel like you need to take care of me.”

Kei cocks his head to the side. “Do you not want me to?”

Another bite, another shake of the head. “That’s not it. I just don’t want you to feel like you _have_ to.”

“I _want_ to,” Kei says, and sneaks his arm behind Kuroo’s neck before kissing his cheek. “I made you breakfast because I wanted to do something nice for my boyfriend.”

Kuroo smiles reticently at his food before placing it back on the table. He sinks down so that he’s entirely covered by the blanket except for his face and part of his neck. He faces Kei, who mirrors him.

“I should leave,” says Kuroo.

Kei’s eyes widen. “What? Why?”

Kuroo’s eyes pointedly avoid making contact with Kei’s. “Because you’re going to get sick of me.”

Kei shifts closer so that their knees bump against each other. Cradling Kuroo’s face, he says, “that’s impossible.”

“You say that now, but you don’t know what’s going to happen in the future,” Kuroo murmurs. “I don’t want to hurt you and end up with you hating me.”

His words carve into Kei’s chest and split him open. “That won’t happen.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Neither do you,” Kei says firmly. “You don’t know anything about the future so there’s no point in worrying about it.”

Kuroo squeezes his eyes shut like he’s in pain. “How can you be so sure?”

Kei can’t help but laugh, which gets Kuroo to open his eyes and, finally, look at Kei. “I’m not sure about anything. God, if the past couple months have taught me anything, it’s that I don’t know shit.” He runs his fingers through Kuroo’s bangs as he finds the next words. “But I’m okay with not knowing shit. I don’t need to. All I need to know is that I’m here with you now and that’s good enough for me.”

He brings Kuroo’s head to nestle against his chest and continues to stroke his hair, peppering kisses against his scalp all the while. The fan still whirs and it’s actually kind of cold in the room, but Kuroo is warm and still soft from sleep.

“Te-tsu-rou,” Kei singsongs into Kuroo’s hair.

“Kei,” Kuroo hums back.

“It’s a lot harder to make my name into a melody.”

For the first time that morning, Kuroo kisses Kei - a gentle press of his lips to Kei’s forearm. “I guess I’ll just have to keep trying until I get it right.”

**MONDAY, 17:12**

The coffee shop near Kei’s apartment is busy when he arrives, but he doesn’t mind the bustling noises around him. Instead, he’s grateful for how the ambience allows him to zone out as he sinks into an accent chair in the corner, mindlessly sipping at his guilty pleasure of a drink - a caramel latte with a generous amount of whipped cream. He’s pretty sure there may be more sugar and syrup in the drink than actual coffee, but he decides he’s earned something unhealthy after the events of the past several weeks.

The bell by the door chimes and he glances over to see Alisa Haiba walking in, looking as though she just stepped off the set of a photoshoot. She sees Kei immediately and waves at him before holding up her finger and angling her head at the counter. Kei bounces his leg and taps his fingers against the arm of his chair while he waits for her to order. Once she retrieves her drink, she approaches him. “It’s a nice day out, want to walk around?”

“Sure.”

They walk in silence as they trod along the sidewalk, each of them busying themselves with their beverages so that they don’t have to talk. It’s once they reach a small park near Kei’s apartment and sit down at a bench that Alisa finally speaks up. “Thank you for meeting me.”

“No problem,” he shrugs. “I was glad you asked me to. I wanted to apologize.”

Alisa’s eyes go wide. “What on earth do _you_ have to apologize for?”

A bubble of nervousness forms in Kei’s gut. _Is she going to make me say it?_ “Uh, for...well, you know… me and Kuroo?”

A small, humorless laugh puffs out of her mouth. “You don’t owe me any apology for that.”

“I do, though,” Kei insists. “It’s wrong to, I don’t know, pursue someone who’s taken.”

“My relationship with Tetsurou was never going to last,” she says, looking down at her coffee cup. Her words sound slightly robotic, like she’s said them before. “It’s better that he had some kind of catalyst to end it instead of us just pushing and pulling at each other for another four years.”

“Still, I feel -”

Alisa stops him with a wave of her hand. “Seriously, don’t worry about that.” She shifts so that her whole body is facing Kei directly. “Tsukishima, I feel so fucking awful about how I treated you the other night. I said some really despicable things that I didn’t mean. I was angry and heartbroken and I took it out on you.”

Kei feels like he should respond, or do something reassuring, like pat Alisa on the shoulder. But he’s so completely taken aback that he’s stumped, his mouth hanging open only to utter no sound.

“It’s okay if you don’t forgive me -”

“This propels him into action. “No, no! I do. I just wasn’t expecting any of that, I guess.”

Alisa tucks a strand of silver hair behind her ear. “I’ve just felt so horrible ever since. I wasn’t even trying to hurt you but I just… I wanted to believe that it was true. That he wasn’t in love with you. But the second I said it, I knew it was a total lie.”

“What do you mean?”

Alisa offers him a small smile. “I don’t know, it’s like trying to deny it made me realize how fucking obvious it was that he was head over heels for you. And it’s not like it came out of nowhere. It started to make sense why he always talked about you.”

“Like, recently?”

“Well, yes, but also, in general,” she says. When she sees Kei furrowing his brow in confusion, she tucks her chin into her chest and laughs. “When he first told me he ran into you, I didn’t even have to ask for clarification on who you were. And I mean, Lev played _a lot_ of teams. I could barely keep up with all the players on Nekoma’s lineup each year. But when Tetsurou said he ran into Tsukishima Kei, I had no problem remembering which one you were, because he _always_ found a way to bring up the ‘tall blond from Karasuno’ or the ‘grouchy middle blocker.’ I always just thought he was really proud he got you to say volleyball is fun, but…”

Kei can feel the redness creeping onto his cheeks. “Grouchy,” he repeats with a half-hearted eyeroll.

“His word,” Alisa snorts. She chews on her lip before asking, “um, how is he?”

“He’s...he’s depressed,” Kei answers uncertainly. “I think. I’m still kind of figuring all of it out.”

“Yeah, that’s how I was when he was first diagnosed. You’ll learn how to navigate it all, it just takes time.”

“How do you -” Kei starts, and then reconsiders if he should say anything. Alisa’s dangly earrings shake as she gives him an encouraging nod to keep going. “How did you manage it? All of it, I mean. The mania is one thing, but the depression… it’s so hard to see him like that.”

Alisa scrunches up her lips and pushes them to one side of her face as she contemplates the question. “I didn’t always manage it well. I think that’s part of why we didn’t work. I always wanted to fix him, and got resentful when I couldn’t. And I wasn’t taking care of myself, either, so I resented him even more for how I felt.”

Kei stares at the ground as her words soak in, sending pinpricks up and down his skin.

“Shit, none of that was really helpful,” she follows up. “But, ah… for you, just be there for him. Break it down piece by piece by piece, one thing at a time. You can’t solve everything at once but if you just take one step, and then another, and then another, you’ll be okay.”

Kei nods as she talks, his eyes still trained on his feet. Her advice isn’t concrete or immediately actionable, but somehow it makes him feel more capable as a partner. He startles slightly when he feels her hand on his knee. He glances up and sees her smiling.

“You guys will be okay,” she promises. “And I still care about him. I always will. So if you ever are really in a bind, and need help… you can call me. Although, honestly, Kozume-kun may be a better choice.”

“Kenma? Kei asks, even though he can’t imagine that there is another Kozume that Alisa could be referring to. He thinks back to standing outside Kenma’s house, holding a black rose while Kuroo stepped inside after Kenma requested to ‘talk to’ him.

“Just the one,” Alisa says. “You probably already know that they’re like brothers. Kozume-kun was always much better at supporting Tetsurou than I ever was.” She picks up her purse from the ground and starts shuffling through it. “Need his number?”

She gives him Kenma’s number, and then a hug. It’s slightly bizarre to be embracing Kuroo’s ex-girlfriend a little over a week after their meeting outside the hotel, but also therapeutic. He feels the layers of guilt fall away as they hug; some of the weight being shed is his, some hers.

“Thanks, Alisa,” he says as they prepare to part ways. “You’re a really good person.”

She lets out a huff of laughter. “I don’t know about that. But, like I said, I still care. So… good luck with everything, Tsukishima. I really do hope it works out for you two.”

Kei smiles. “Thanks.” As she walks away, he thinks, _it will_.

**19:32**

When he arrives back at his apartment, Kei is surprised to see Kuroo out in the living room, sitting on the couch next to Ebihara, of all people. In each of their hands is a controller, a game of Mario Kart in progress on the screen. A slightly confused but genuine smile finds its way onto Kei’s face as he observes their match. Kuroo is, unsurprisingly, faring quite poorly, while Ebihara is in first place.

“Shit!” Kuroo exclaims as his character - Wario, as usual - runs into a wall just as Ebihara’s Bowser shoots through the finish line. Kuroo struggles to finish out the race but does manage to come in tenth place thanks to a few helpful boosts. 

“So I take it you haven’t been practicing your racing much since our last match,” Kei smirks when Kuroo sets the controller down on the coffee table.

“What do you mean? That was my best showing yet,” Kuroo quips back, and Kei is delighted to see he has some of his snark back.

“I haven’t played Mario Kart in forever,” Ebihara comments.

“No way,” Kuroo says. “You won every single race.” Ebihara just shrugs at this, and Kuroo looks at Kei as he says, “man, just like Kenma.”

“Well, thanks for the games, Kuroo-san,” Ebihara says, walking over to turn the TV off. “If either of you need me I’ll be in my room.”

When Ebihara disappears behind his bedroom door, Kei mutters to Kuroo, “as if he’d be anywhere else.”

Kuroo chuckles. “Hey, he’s the one who offered to play with me.”

“Really?” Kei turns to head toward his room, and Kuroo follows.

“Don’t act so surprised,” Kuroo says. “I know you asked them to babysit me.”

Kei’s stomach drops as he pushes the door to his room open. “I didn’t!”

Seating himself on the edge of Kei’s bed, Kuroo arches a suspicious eyebrow. In truth, Kei _may_ have told Oikawa to keep an eye out if Kuroo seemed like he needed anything, but he didn’t dispatch his roommates to monitor him. And he certainly didn’t mention anything to Ebihara.

“I just…wanted to make sure you were okay,” Kei relents. He sits down next to Kuroo and leans backward so that his back is against the mattress. Kuroo follows suit.

“It’s okay,” Kuroo says. “It was nice to get out of my head for a bit.”

Kei’s hand finds Kuroo’s and brings it to his lips, kissing each knuckle. “How are you feeling?”

Kuroo hums in response. “I just want to lie here.”

“Okay,” Kei says, lips tingling against the flesh of Kuroo’s hand. “Then we’ll lie here.”

After a moment of doing just that, Kuroo adds, “I also want to kiss.”

Kei turns his head to look at Kuroo and doesn’t fight the beaming smile that spreads from cheek-to-cheek. He rolls slightly, putting weight on his shoulder, and then takes Kuroo’s face between his hands and leans forward to grant his wish. Their lips move together languidly, barely making any sound, not bothering to open wide enough for tongues to be involved. It’s delicate and soft, just like Kuroo is when he sleeps.

Kissing Kuroo fills him with so much warmth that some of it spills over, forming into words that topple out of his mouth. “I love this,” Kei whispers against Kuroo’s lips. “I love you.”

Kuroo pulls his head back, not in any rush, but still deliberately. His expression is conflicted. “It won’t always be like this,” he frowns.

Kei props himself up on an elbow and looks down at Kuroo. “What do you mean?”

“Being with me. It won’t always be… kisses and - and flowers, and -”

“That’s true of any relationship,” Kei points out, but Kuroo doesn’t seem convinced. He rolls onto his side and presses his cheek into the mattress, then covers the other side of his face with his hand.

“There’ll be times when I make your life a lot harder than it would be if you were with someone else.”

“I don’t want someone else, though,” Kei says, insistent. He rolls onto his stomach and presses one arm flat against the bed so he can rest his head on it, and uses his other hand to pry Kuroo’s fingers away from his face. When Kei can see his eyes, he says, “I want _you_. Every single moment I can get with you.”

Kuroo chews his lip. “Even the bad ones?”

Kei blinks slowly, trying to understand what it is that Kuroo is so fearful of. Yes, he may prefer that Kuroo not galavant nude in the streets of Tokyo - or any city, for that matter - and it tugs at his heart to see him in a depressive mood, but being with Kuroo no longer seems like an insurmountable feat that it once did. He searches his mind for why that is, and comes up with an idea.

“One time,” he starts, trailing a finger up and down Kuroo’s arm. “When I was twelve, my dad came home in the middle of the night and started screaming at my mom about something. My brother and I both woke up and had to listen to him calling her all sorts of terrible names. He broke half the plates in our house that night, just because he could, just because he was angry and drunk. We heard every single time one slammed against the floor.”

Concern radiates from Kuroo’s expression. “Kei… I, I-”

“My point is,” Kei interrupts gently, “that ‘bad’ is relative. I’m not going to pretend I’m prepared for every situation. But even if this,” he wiggles a finger between them, “isn’t always kisses and flowers, I know it will never be the kind of hell that I grew up around. So I’ll take a hundred ‘bad’ moments with you if it means I can have five good ones.”

Underneath the pad of Kei’s index finger, Kuroo’s arm trembles. He looks up to the ceiling and Kei can see tears glistening on his lash line, dribbling onto his cheekbone. Kei catches a tear with his finger. “Tetsurou?”

Kuroo scrunches his eyes closed, trapping more tears. “I love you,” he murmurs, his voice thick as though repressing a sob. Kei gives him a moment to breathe and collect himself. Sniffling, he says, “I hope I can give you a better ratio than five to one hundred.”

Kei laughs, and is pleased to see Kuroo crack a smile as well, even if it looks a little pained. Kei shifts his legs so that he can perch himself on his knees, and tugs at Kuroo to do the same. When they’re facing each other, he puts his hands on Kuroo’s shoulders. “I know you were kidding, but I don’t want you to think about it like that.”

Kuroo tilts his head to the side. “Think about it like what?”

“Like it’s your responsibility, or something. To give me good moments.”

“Isn’t it?” 

“No,” Kei shakes his head. “You just have to be you, and I just have to be me. And when being ourselves gives us good moments, that’s good. And when being ourselves gives us bad moments, that’s… we’ll figure it out.”

The smile Kuroo wears is much more joyful now. “When did you get so wise, Tsukki-sama?”

Grinning, Kei leans forward to kiss Kuroo’s forehead. “Let’s just say I’ve had a lot of unique life experiences lately.”

**TUESDAY, 11:05**

Kei’s on his way out of class when he decides to approach Sakata. She’s a few meters in front of him as everyone files out of the lecture hall, and though there’s no guarantee she’ll want to talk to him, he figures it’s worth a try. He calls her name when the crowd around him thins out, and when she whisks around she already has a nervous expression painted on her face, as though she could sense Kei’s presence. He quickens his pace as she slows hers until they’re standing side-by-side.

“Do you have a minute?”

Sakata glances up at him, her eyes wide and unreadable. “Sure.”

He leads her over to the vending area where no one else has congregated. It’s not exactly private, given how it connects to the rest of the hallway, but perhaps that’s a good thing. Sakata may be less likely to slap him, even if he deserves it.

“Uh, so,” Kei starts, eloquent as ever.

She doesn’t let him finish. “Tsukishima, I’m really sorry.”

He blinks. That’s decidedly not what he was expecting. How is it, he wonders, that everyone to whom he’s been a complete jerk recently has decided that _he’s_ the one owed an apology? Finding his voice, he asks, “why are you apologizing?”

Sakata avoids eye contact with him. “The things I texted you were really… uncalled for.”

“The way I treated you was uncalled for,” Kei counters.

“Yes,” she agrees quickly, her tone a bit sharper than before. “Yes, you weren’t particularly great to me. But I was pissed off and kind of drunk when I sent you those messages, and I’ve felt really bad about it ever since.” She folds her arm across her chest and looks down at the ground, having clearly finished saying her piece.

“Well, I appreciate it, but I’m the one who needs to apologize. A lot. For everything. I don’t have any excuse for it. I was awful to you, and you didn’t deserve any of it.” Kei pauses to take a breath, and wishes that he had prepared a better apology. With Sakata standing in front of him, so small and vulnerable, he feels like a complete monster for ever having toyed with her like he did. “And, it’s not like you were wrong, with those texts.”

She finally meets his eyes. “What?”

“About me and,” he takes a breath, “the type of people I’m interested in.”

“Oh,” Sakata exhales the smallest laugh. “Well, I kind of figured there was something with you and Kuroo-san.”

“Figured?” Kei echoes, his cheeks getting hot. “Didn’t Alisa tell you?’

She shakes her head. “No, she didn’t tell me anything about that. But, no offense, you weren’t exactly subtle, the way you looked at him and all.”

“Christ,” he mutters under his breath, embarrassed.

Sakata allows herself a slightly louder giggle. “Um, but it wasn’t my place to tell you to,” she looks out into the hallway and lowers her voice, “come out or anything.”

Kei shrugs. “Well, I did, so you weren’t really wrong about that either.”

“Oh!” A genuine smile finds its way onto her face. “That’s… um, congratulations, I think? Do people get congratulated for that?”

Kei snorts. Her tentative excitement reminds him of Yachi. “I’m not sure myself.”

“Well, in any case, I’m happy for you,” she says slowly, as though she’s deciding her feelings on the matter as each word makes its way out her mouth. “Are you and Kuroo-san…?”

Kei nods. A cocktail of pride and elation courses through him at the fact that he can answer that question affirmatively.

“Good,” Sakata says. “Alisa told me that she wasn’t with him anymore, so, again, I figured. But that’s nice.”

“So you and Alisa are still talking, then?” Kei asks, and Sakata nods. “Well, at least you got one good thing out of all this. I really am sorry, again.”

“I appreciate it, Tsukishima. I have to get going but… thanks for apologizing.”

“Of course. I’ll see you around, Sakata.”

She disappears into the hallway and Kei slumps against the wall. Then and there, he decides he never wants to do anything to hurt anyone else ever again, because this apology stuff really is draining. Idly, he finds himself wishing he could go back to his high school days, when he operated with indifference toward everyone he upset.

Then he thinks of how the old Kei would probably never end up with Kuroo, and decides he’s glad he grew a conscience after all.

**THURSDAY, 18:16**

It’s the warmest it’s been in months, and the sun feels good on Kei’s face as he steps out of the train station and onto the street. He takes the route that he remembers taking the last time he was here, until he finds himself stumped and uses his phone to guide him the rest of the way.

Kenma is, once again, sitting on the porch when Kei approaches him. Despite the nice weather, Kenma is dressed in a hoodie and baggy sweatpants, the latter of which are tucked into a pair of fuzzy socks. He scoots over to make room for Kei next to him, but Nami takes the opportunity to sneak into the space before Kei can.

“Kuro didn’t want to come?” Kenma asks as Kei sits down on the other side of Nami.

“He wanted to, but he has a group project he needed to work on and this was the only time they could meet,” Kei answers. “Hope it’s okay that it’s just me.”

“It’s fine. Probably better that he’s not here.”

“You think so?”

Kenma wrinkles his nose. “He’s Kuro. He can be difficult. Especially about this stuff.”

 _This stuff._ It’s not surprising that Kenma would jump right to the reason for their meeting without much - any - preamble. He doesn’t really mind, though he struggles to find a good place to start. His mind is so full of questions, many of which all seem to be of equal importance.

Yet, somehow, the first thing out of his mouth doesn’t concern any of those more pressing topics. “The cat on his arm,” he says, gesturing to his own wrist. “I remember him saying he got that on impulse.”

Kenma understands the question even as Kei doesn’t ask it. “Yeah, he was manic when he got that. Honestly, it was one of his better ideas. Could have been a lot worse.”

Kei nods in agreement. “He seems to still like it.”

“He does,” Kenma says. “It’s a very... him thing to do. Get a dumb Nekoma thing permanently inked on him forever.”

Kei lets out a small puff of laughter before silence stretches between them again. He runs his fingers through Nami’s fur as he asks the next question that comes to his head. “Has he ever tried any medication?”

To his surprise, Kenma launches into a lengthy, detailed description of Kuroo’s experiences since he was diagnosed as bipolar: how he took medication once but abandoned it after it gave him trouble sleeping even when he wasn’t manic; how he’s soured on the idea of trying more medication, but with some gentle prodding, Kenma urges, he’d be receptive to visiting a psychiatrist; how Kuroo hasn’t seen a therapist, but again, it may be worth exploring. Halfway through Kenma’s monologue, Kei whips out his phone and starts taking notes, determined to retain the information even as it overwhelms him.

“You really know a lot,” Kei observes after he’s done typing out the name of the medication that Kuroo had tried.

“I’ve had to force it out of him, sometimes,” Kenma says. “Kuro’s smart, but he’s also stupid, and he thinks he can do everything on his own. But this isn’t something that anyone should have to deal with alone, so…”

Kenma’s eyes drift to stare at something past Kei. He follows Kenma’s gaze to look at the house that once belonged to the Kuroo family, and gulps as another question comes to mind, one he’d tried not to think about too hard. “His mom…”

“She was never formally diagnosed,” Kenma says immediately, clearly having anticipated the question. “But from what I understand, all the signs were there.”

Chills travel up and down Kei’s spine as he remembers a line of text he read while researching: _people with bipolar disorder may have a heightened risk for suicide._ Kenma, ever perceptive, reads Kei like a book, and tells him not to worry for Kuroo.

“Kuro is strong. Not that it’s weak, what his mom did. But he’s different, I think. And if he actually goes to see a professional like he ought to, then he’ll be in good shape. Plus, I think he’ll be better from here on out anyway.”

“Why’s that?”

Kenma shrugs. “‘Cause he has you.”

Kei looks down at his lap and smiles. “Yeah. He has me.”

**SATURDAY, 21:50**

“Whose birthday is it again?”

Kei’s thumb rubs against Kuroo’s knuckles as they walk along the street to Kunimi and Yamaguchi’s place. Streetlights illuminate Kuroo’s features, washing over his cheekbones in streaks of white and gold.

“Kei?”

Kei blinks when he realizes he had neglected to answer the question, having been too preoccupied with gazing at Kuroo’s profile. He shakes his head as if to jolt himself awake. “It’s, uh, Kindaichi’s. He’s a friend of Kunimi’s from high school.”

“Kunimi has other friends?” Kuroo jokes.

“Ha,” Kei says dryly, although he’s biting back a smile. “Save the ribbing for when he’s around. It’s more satisfying that way.”

“Yeah, yeah. So if he’s from Kunimi’s school, will Oikawa be there tonight as well?”

“He said he’d come after work,” Kei says as they turn onto the walkway leading up to the front door of the building. Kei slows to a stop, tugging on Kuroo’s hand to get him to pause as well. “You don’t have to come, if you don’t want to.”

“We’re literally outside,” Kuroo points out.

“I know, but I feel like I pressured you or something, or -”

“I _want_ to go,” Kuroo insists. His adamant expression morphs into a frown. “I can handle things like this.”

“I know you can,” Kei says softly, removing his hand from Kuroo’s and opting instead to brush it against his cheek. A month ago - hell, maybe two weeks ago - he wouldn’t have dared to hold Kuroo’s hand or show anything even resembling affection in public, but he’s past that now. He’s determined to take every opportunity to show Kuroo all the tenderness he feels. “I’m sorry. I don’t want you to feel like I’m babying you, or anything.”

“It’s okay,” Kuroo says, bringing his own hand to rest against Kei’s. “We’re learning. But I want to go. It’ll be nice to do something normal, you know?”

Kei smiles, and leans forward to peck Kuroo on the cheek. “Yeah, I know.”

The party has all the makings of a typical birthday gathering involving college students: music that’s too loud, an apartment that’s too crowded, and a birthday boy who’s too drunk. Immediately upon walking through the door, a nearly unrecognizable Kindaichi throws his arms into the air and pulls Kei into an unexpected (and unwanted) hug. If not for the fact that Kindaichi is nearly as tall as Kei is, he may not have known it was him, on account of his new - much more flattering - hairstyle and the fact that it may be the first time Kei’s ever seen him in an outfit that isn’t bright blue.

Kunimi appears by the door and flicks Kindaichi in the head for accosting Kei. “I knew jello shots were a bad idea,” he murmurs to Kei and Kuroo when Kindaichi wanders off to talk to someone else.

“Looks like you’re having a good time playing host,” Kei observes facetiously.

“Almost as fun as you always find it,” Kunimi retorts. He takes a swig of beer from the bottle in his hand and then leans in, keeping his voice low. “Though Amachi-chan is here, so I’m trying not to be too much of a hardass.”

“You possess so much more self-awareness than I ever gave you credit for,” Kei grins, earning a snort from Kuroo and a glare from Kunimi.

Kunimi turns to Kuroo and jabs a thumb in Kei’s face. “How do you put up with him?”

Kuroo opens his mouth to respond, but Kei interjects. “He’s the one who was surprised that you had another friend.”

For a split second, Kuroo looks both mortified and nervous that Kunimi will be offended by the statement, but it quickly dissolves when Kunimi bursts out laughing. “You guys really are a match made in heaven.”

Kei feels his cheeks turn hot, and avoids looking at Kuroo, who - from the corner of his eye - he can see wears a huge grin on his face while he slinks an arm over Kei’s shoulder. Thankfully, Yamaguchi materializes next to Kunimi to greet them and excuse his roommate from host duties so he can continue to flirt with Amachi.

“They’re so unbelievably awkward around each other, but in a strangely charming way,” Yamaguchi comments when Kunimi is out of earshot. All three of them glance over to watch Kunimi stumble over his own feet as he approaches Amachi. “Anyway, do you guys want beers?”

Both of them shake their heads at the same time. Kuroo glances over at Kei to give him a look - one that says _you don’t have to say no on my account_. But Kei just shrugs it off, both because he doesn’t want to make a big thing of it in front of Yamaguchi, and because, really, he doesn’t mind joining Kuroo in his decision to lay off substances.

“Water, then?” Yamaguchi suggests, to which they both nod.

They find themselves in the kitchen for the next half hour, mostly chatting with Yamaguchi and Suna about things they all know well: college, volleyball, and how strange it is to see Kunimi with a girl. Kei takes a backseat in the conversation, content to watch how Kuroo easily weaves himself into the fabric of his friend group. At one point, Yamaguchi brings up a moment from Karasuno’s third trip to Nationals, during which Kageyama dared Hinata to flirt with a female player from another team, and then proceeded to watch as the girl’s 205-centimeter boyfriend who _also_ played volleyball came over to berate Hinata. Having heard the story directly from the idiotic duo themselves, Kei fondly observes Kuroo’s reactions of laughter and horror, and gently slides his fingers between Kuroo’s. Though he doesn’t look over at Kei, Kuroo squeezes his hand as he continues to listen to Yamaguchi.

Kunimi appears in the kitchen to let them know Oikawa has arrived. As they file out to greet him, Kunimi pulls Kei aside with a tug of the wrist. “Come with me for a sec.”

Kei knits his brows together. “Why?”

“Just come on!”

Still confused, Kei follows Kunimi across the living area into his bedroom.

“Ditched Amachi for me? How sweet.”

Kunimi clicks his tongue. “She’s in the bathroom. Anyway, shut up. I got something for you.”

“Huh?” Kei utters as he watches Kunimi dig through his desk drawers until he retrieves a paperback book.

“When my sister was diagnosed, my mom got really into this one author who does a lot of writing about having loved ones who are bipolar. She was only interested in his books about managing relationships with family members, but I did some research and found this one of his that I thought you might like.”

He holds the book out to Kei, who stares at it with wide eyes. Kunimi’s hand covers part of the title, but Kei can see the words _Loving Someone Who’s Bipolar_ on the spine. He lifts his hand tentatively to take it. “You… got this for me?”

“No, I got it for Suna,” Kunimi deadpans as he lets go of his end of the book. Kei stares at it with a look of bewilderment. “It’s just a book, Tsukki. What do you look so freaked out for?”

“I’m not freaked out,” Kei denies, eyes still glued to the gift. “I just...I guess I’m touched.”

He raises his eyes just in time to see Kunimi wrinkle his nose. “Don’t make this weird. I’m already way over my quota of feelings for the month.”

Kei snorts. “Having a crush will do that to you.”

“You’d know.”

“Yeah,” Kei looks back down at the book, a smile creeping onto his face. “I would.”

“Well,” Kunimi says, extending his arm back out. “I can keep it in here for the rest of the night so you don’t have to, you know, carry it around. But I thought I’d show you before I forgot.”

“Yeah,” Kei agrees, letting Kunimi take the book and put it back on his desk. “Well, thanks, Kunimi. That was really, uh, thoughtful of you.”

Kunimi rolls his eyes as he walks toward the door of his room. “I keep trying to tell you people, I’m a nice person.”

**00:54**

It’s past midnight, but they’re still among the first to leave when they excuse themselves from the party to walk back to Kei’s apartment. When they get home, they crawl into bed almost immediately.

“Did you have fun?” Kuroo asks, his lips grazing against Kei’s bare chest.

“Mmhmm,” Kei answers as he combs his fingers through Kuroo’s hair. “This is more fun, though.”

“Lying in bed is more fun than a party?”

“Lying in bed with _you_ ,” Kei corrects, not even bothering to feel embarrassed about what a sap he must sound like. He plants a kiss on Kuroo’s forehead and murmurs, “anything with you.”

“You’re such a liar,” Kuroo accuses. “You once told me you’re not sentimental. You so are.”

“Maybe,” Kei concedes. He can tell Kuroo is surprised by his agreement. “Maybe I don’t think it’s so bad to be sentimental after all.”

“Yeah?” Kuroo says. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna get a crow tattoo, now.”

Kei scoots back so he can look at Kuroo’s face, then he gently takes Kuroo’s tattooed wrist in his hand and lifts it up so they can both look at it in the dim light of the moon shining through the window.

“I don’t know,” he muses, and brings Kuroo’s wrist to his lips so he can kiss the ink. “Maybe I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHH.
> 
> It’s done. It’s done! I can’t believe it! What a journey this has been :) Writing has been a passion of mine for almost all my life but I’m not kidding when I say that I have never - _never_ \- finished a piece of fiction that I started. So the fact that I actually finished this is really exciting for me. And, dammit, I’m proud of myself!
> 
> If it’s not obvious - I love Haikyuu and KuroTsuki so, so much. Getting to explore their relationship, and all of the other characters in this story, was so much fun. And wow, was the feedback amazing. The fact that one person - let alone dozens - would willingly read my writing is just unbelievably incredible, and I am endlessly grateful to every single person who read even a word of this story. If you commented, left kudos, subscribed, bookmarked, etc. - THANK YOU. It really means the world to me.
> 
> Thank you for putting up with all the times I had the characters raise their eyebrows, cock their heads to the side, ‘huff out’ a laugh, or trail off with an ellipsis. Nothing like a 14-chapter work to make me realize how much I rely on those things. And ya know what? I’ll probably still forever abuse them.
> 
> I absolutely am planning on writing (and have already started) more for this pairing, and for the Haikyuu fandom in general, since going through this process has been so enjoyable. So, if you like my writing, you have that to look forward to. In the meantime, hang out with me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/wooplema).
> 
> Of course, I can’t go without mentioning the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7eme6FXErBnazjwRCUmreD?si=ou1xohVMR0GzfVOeLjwhhQ&nd=1). For this chapter, I think “In a River” by Rostam fits well. The song seems to have a fairly literal meaning related to skinny dipping, but the following lyrics feel like they carry a little bit more than just what it says on the tin:
> 
> _We are swimming with no clothes on  
>  In a river in the dark  
> And I am holding on to you, boy  
> In the faint light of the stars_
> 
> I like to think that ‘swimming with no clothes on’ and being ‘in a river in the dark’ implies some level of discomfort/uncertainty, and yet they’re holding onto each other through it all. And that’s how things will be for Kuroo and Tsukki - staying together and leaning on each other even through times that aren’t so easy.
> 
> Much love to you all. Thank you, thank you, thank you. <3


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